


Just a Fantasy

by Vidriana



Series: Ruin My Life [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: BDSM, Bringing in a Third, Communication Failure, Established Relationship, Kink Exploration, M/M, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Slow Burn, partially
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 70,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22023337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vidriana/pseuds/Vidriana
Summary: Not only are he and Willy not dating, Willy is also in a relationship with someone else. Someone else who Freddie doms on a fairly regular basis. Someone else who Willy would eventually like to dom as well.It doesn’t have to be a problem though, Freddie tries to convince himself. All he has to do is draw some boundaries and stick to them.It turns out that some things are easier said than done.
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/Kasperi Kapanen, Frederik Andersen/William Nylander, Frederik Andersen/William Nylander/Kasperi Kapanen, Kasperi Kapanen/William Nylander
Series: Ruin My Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584817
Comments: 73
Kudos: 155





	1. Hold me up, tie me down

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back in hockey and writing sequels to...not the thing I said I would write a sequel to. Oh well, this idea didn't leave me alone so I decided to make this my NaNo project and then it grew to 70k. Oops?
> 
> This fic picks up shortly after the ending of the first part and while I don't think it's necessary to read that first, it does get referenced a bunch and kinda sets up this story. As you might have guessed if you've read the first part, this fic is mostly smut and feeling, but since this is a lot longer I've decided not to tag all the kink, etc and will instead put those and other content notes in the end notes of each chapter.
> 
> Thousands of thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta frecklebombfic who described this story as "much more emotionally horny than sexually" and that sums it up pretty well.
> 
> Content warning: at least one character makes bad decisions for his emotional well-being and this manifests in anxiety-like symptoms and thought processes. If this is distressing for you please proceed with caution.

Freddie’s just settled on his couch, about to put on a movie and let the rest of the evening swing out slowly, when his intercom chimes. He considers pretending not to be home, but the list of people likely to drop by unannounced is short, and usually includes a caveat about emergencies, so he doesn’t do it.

He gets up and presses the button. “Hello?” He tries to tone down his annoyance. His uninvited guest might not deserve a warm welcome, but his doorman isn’t responsible for the interruption.

“Good evening, Mr Andersen. I have Mr. Nylander here for you.” 

Freddie’s eyebrows furrow. Willy isn’t on the list of people Freddie expects to drop by. He isn’t even on the list of people Freddie expects to hang out with on a rare evening off, but apparently he’s nonetheless the person standing in front of his door.

“Sure, send him up,” Freddie says. "Thank you." He goes to open the door and waits, leaning back against the frame.

It’s not a long walk from the lobby to Freddie’s apartment, but it’s still enough time for him to run through all possible reasons Willy could be here. 

He’s not an idiot. There’s a pretty high chance it’s about their shared scene in the locker room, an even higher chance it’s about Kappy, but Freddie can’t imagine the specifics.

He doesn’t have time to ponder it too long, because the elevator doors at the end of the hallway open and Willy walks out. He’s wearing a well-fitted coat that’s probably part of his game day wardrobe, but underneath are jeans and sneakers, so it’s unlikely he’s on his way back from some important business meeting.

He looks good, Freddie notices in that absent-minded way that he always does. 

“Hi,” Willy says, a hesitant smile on his face. He lingers on Freddie’s doormat, only stepping into the apartment when Freddie makes a sweeping motion with his hand. Freddie closes the door behind him and turns around to find Willy just standing there, his coat still on as his eyes roam over Freddie’s hallway decorations, lingering on the few photos without really focusing on anything, before peering through the doorway into Freddie’s living room, not making a move towards it. 

There’s some snow clinging to his shoulders, and Freddie wonders how long he’s been standing in front of the building, debating whether or not to come in. Willy must notice him looking because he snaps himself out of it, giving Freddie a sheepish smile, a hand going up automatically to brush his hair out of his face.

“You just missed Kappy,” Freddie says, because it’s as good a place to start as any. Willy nods, his fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve.

“I know, I saw him leave.” He bites his lip and doesn’t meet Freddie’s eyes. Interesting.

“So you wanted to talk to me alone.” Willy looks caught, a bit like a startled deer with the way his eyes go wide, even though it’s an obvious conclusion.

“Yeah, I— I wasn’t sure if I should, but—” He’s struggling, turning a bit red, and he’s still having a hard time holding still, his fingers restless by his side. “You and Kappy...talked about it. Right?”

It’s not much of a guess what he’s referring to, so Freddie nods, still unsure what Willy is getting at. “Yeah, we always debrief after scenes. Just because the last one was more...public, doesn’t mean we don’t need to talk about it.” He wonders how much he should say. It’s none of Willy’s business what they talk about, and Freddie certainly isn’t going to share anything Kappy tells him in confidence, but Willy is clearly worried about something.

Willy still doesn’t relax. “Do I need to debrief too?” he asks, then hastily adds, “I mean, I didn’t really do anything, but I was there, and— I dunno.” 

“You were a part of it,” Freddie replies. Technically everyone present in the locker room was a part of the scene, but none of the others feel like Freddie’s responsibility. Willy is different.

“We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” he starts, careful. “But if you’re feeling up for it I think we should.” Somehow that is the thing that finally leeches the tension from Willy’s shoulders. Some far off part of Freddie’s brain notes it down that direct suggestions calm Willy, give him some stability. It’s not knowledge Freddie is ever going to need, but it’s always good to have information.

“Yeah, okay,” Willy agrees. “Where do we start?”

Freddie smiles. “How about you start by taking off your coat?” he suggests, much gentler than he would with anyone else, but Willy still reminds him of a skittish animal, and Freddie doesn’t mind being gentle when the occasion calls for it. 

Willy blushes anyway, embarrassed, but he quickly shrugs off his coat, takes off his hat and shoes, and follows Freddie into the living room where he awkwardly stands in front of Freddie’s couch. It’s strangely endearing. 

“Sit down, I’ll get us something to drink.” Freddie doesn’t actually watch him follow the order, even though he wants to. Instead he busies himself with filling two glasses and putting them down on his coffee table. He doesn’t sit in the chair opposite Willy, like he would if he was doing a debrief with Kappy, but next to him on the couch, putting them at an even level.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asks, and instantly the tension is back. 

Willy fidgets with his sleeves again, a nice maroon sweater instead of the coat now, and doesn’t quite look at him. “I don’t know. Where does Kappy usually start?”

It’s interesting, objectively, that Willy seems to see himself as a comparable for Kappy, when his actual role in the scene had been much closer to Freddie’s own. Part of Freddie wants to point this out, just to see how he’ll react, but he doesn’t.

“There isn’t really a set structure for post-scene talks.” Willy’s knee twitches at the word choice, so Freddie decides to change course. “Think of them as post-game video reviews, just without the video.”

That makes Willy perk up, so Freddie continues. “It’s pretty straight-forward, usually. You talk about things you liked, things you’d like to improve. Obviously if anything went wrong, that’s usually something you sort out first.”

Willy starts gnawing on his lip, before Freddie is even done talking. “Went wrong,” he repeats. “What— How would something go wrong? Wouldn’t you just stop, then?” 

It’s such a naive question, it almost baffles Freddie as much as it worries him. “If it’s within a scene, sure, that’s what safewords are for. But sometimes you only realize that you found something upsetting afterwards, and I need my sub to tell me about it so I can avoid it in the future, just as I’d tell them if there was something I didn’t like.”

It feels strange, going over something so basic, and Freddie almost expects Willy to scoff and proclaim that that obviously wasn’t what he meant, but Willy nods like he’s learning something new, and Freddie wonders not for the first time how much Willy actually knows about BDSM.

Up until now, Freddie had sort of assumed that Willy had at least passing familiarity, given that Kappy seemed to be so well-versed in this area. He would have expected Willy to have googled some stuff at least, but this isn’t the first time Willy has shown some clear gaps in knowledge.

Freddie still remembers him looking nervous when Freddie had grabbed his shoulder just before Kappy had come into the locker room. _If you don’t like something that’s happening, just say the word and I’ll stop it, _Freddie had said, and Willy had tilted his head and looked up at him.

_This is for Kappy. It doesn’t matter if I don’t like something_, he’d replied and Freddie had wanted to have a longer talk with him about it, but they hadn’t had the time. He’d just made sure Willy knew not to do anything that made him truly uncomfortable, and to tell Freddie if he accidentally ended up crossing a boundary.

“Is there anything that didn’t work for you?” Freddie asks, and is glad to see that Willy actually takes a moment to think about it.

“I mean,” he starts, not quite able to meet Freddie’s eyes, “I don’t think so? I mean, I don’t really know how something like that is supposed to go—”

Freddie cuts him off before he has the opportunity to talk himself into a frenzy. “Is there anything that you found upsetting? That you would have liked to go differently?”

Willy bites his lip. “No,” he finally says. “I don’t think so.”

Freddie exhales, letting go of tension in his chest he hadn’t even been aware of. “Good. That’s good. Let me know if something comes up later. I feel like I should have prepared you a bit better, I wasn’t planning on having you play quite such a large part,” he confesses, but Willy immediately shakes his head.

“No, it wasn’t— It was good.” He bites his lip again and drops his head.

Freddie looks at him, takes in the set of his shoulders, tense but not defensive, and the way his fingers are restlessly drumming against the side of the couch. “You also talk about the things that went well, that you would like more of,” he says carefully, and Willy doesn’t relax but he doesn’t tense up any further either. Freddie waits. 

“That’s kind of why I’m here,” Willy finally admits, shooting Freddie an uncertain look. “Because you said—” He breaks off and bites his lip again, gathering himself. “You said there were things I could do for Kappy, stuff he’d like, even if I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Right.” Freddie remembers that quite vividly, but he hadn’t honestly thought Willy might want to explore that possibility further. “I did. And there are loads of things you can do that aren’t about pain. A huge part of getting a sub into the right headspace is about presence, the way you treat them, talk to them. It’s not all about what you actually do. I could forward you some links, if you’d like. See if anything sounds good to you.”

Willy is chewing on his lip so hard, Freddie wants to reach out and brush his fingers across the abused skin, make him stop. He digs his fingers into the soft fabric of his sweatpants instead to avoid the temptation. 

“I was wondering if you could— show me, instead,” Willy says, and the idea alone puts pictures into Freddie’s mind, of Willy flushed and sweaty, tangled in a set of ropes, the dark fabric a stark contrast against his skin and— 

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Freddie asks, and somehow he succeeds in keeping his voice level. 

Willy shrugs. “When me and Kappy first started dating I looked some stuff up, but it was all…” He makes a face. “I don’t know, it just seemed so— cruel. Not that I think you’re— ” he adds, eyes going wide, but Freddie waves him off.

“I get pretty mean when I’m with Kappy, but only because he likes it. It’s not a requirement. There are plenty of things you can do for him that are...challenging, rather than cruel.” Willy flinches, and looks so terribly guilty that Freddie immediately regrets the word choice. 

He tries a different approach. “What about what our teammates did to Kappy? Auston, maybe. Or Travis. How do you feel about something like that? They weren’t mean.” 

Willy hesitates. “No, but— I just don’t— I couldn’t do that to Kappy. To anyone.”

Freddie considers that. “You don’t have to hurt him, but what about when you told him he couldn’t come until you said so? Some might say that’s cruel, too.” 

Willy’s cheeks flush red. “That’s different. I’m not— I wasn’t hurting him then.”

“So it’s the pain in general you have a problem with, or specifically being the one to cause it?” Freddie asks.

“Second one, I think,” Willy replies after a little deliberation. “I don’t mind that he— gets off on being hurt. I just can’t do that for him.” 

There are a lot of things Freddie could say. That the pain is about a lot more than just getting off for Kappy, that it’s not even inherently sexual for him, but a different way to be aware of his body, to feel completely and wholly anchored, and barely present at the same time. But it’s not really his place to have this conversation with Willy.

“And you don’t mind giving him orders, right?” Willy nods again and Freddie hums. “There is definitely something you can do. You could start with simple rope bondage, maybe use a slightly rougher material so Kappy can decide for himself how much he wants to get hurt when struggling. And maybe some stress positions, he likes those.”

Willy sits up straighter. “I could do that, I think.”

Freddie smiles back at him. “Good. The basics are pretty easy to pick up on, but I recommend that you do some research and try it out before using it on Kappy. He can probably talk you through most of it, but it’s still good for you to have some familiarity with the general setup, as well as the precautions you need to take.”

“Right,” Willy says, “that’s why I’m here. I want you to teach me how to do something like that.” 

Freddie blinks. “You want me to teach you,” he repeats, just to make absolutely sure, but Willy nods enthusiastically. 

“You talked about it during— during the scene.” There’s a blush high on his cheeks again, and it’s not helping Freddie think through his answer at all.

“I was thinking Kappy would be present for that,” he admits. He hadn’t not been serious about his offer, but it had mostly been a fantasy. He’d imagined it as another scene, him guiding Willy through tying up Kappy, teasing him and making him beg, being able to watch Kappy’s flushed, blissed out face and Willy’s quiet surprised pride as they figured out how to be together in this new way. It’s not something he’d ever thought Willy might take him up on.

Willy shrugs, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t know, I don’t really— I don’t want to fumble around with him, you know. I want to be good at it already when we try it together. I want it to be good for him.” 

It’s sweet, just what Freddie would expect from the two of them.

“I know he’s okay with the way things are,” Willy continues. “That he’s happy. But, well, what if things could be even better? Isn’t that worth a try?” He sounds incredibly earnest, like this is the obvious course of action. And maybe to him it is, but Freddie can’t help but see the logistical issues. 

“What exactly do you want from me?” he asks. “Do you want me to show you some knots and safety precautions, show you some tutorials for working with stress positions? Or do you want to work on your general tone and demeanor?”

Willy fidgets, for the first time in a while. “I was thinking you could, you know, demonstrate?”

“You want to watch me and Kappy together?” is Freddie’s first thought, but Willy immediately shakes his head.

“No that’s not— that’s just for Kappy, I don’t want to interfere with that.” Privately, Freddie thinks that Kappy probably wouldn’t at all mind having Willy there with them, watching and learning, but he doesn’t bring it up.

“What then?” he asks instead.

Willy bites his lip again. “I was thinking, if you’re up for it you could, uh, help me practice?”

Freddie raises an eyebrow. “You want to practice on me?” 

“Actually I was thinking maybe you could, uhm, do it to me.” Freddie takes a moment to work through that statement.

“You want me to tie you up?” It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s more that— “I don’t see how that would help you learn.” Willy shrugs.

“It’s not just about learning how to do it, it’s— I want to know why Kappy likes it. Obviously I don’t get the pain, but I feel like this might make sense to me?” He looks at Freddie for confirmation, but keeps going before he can say anything. “And besides, you said before that a lot of it is about presence and stuff, and I feel like it would be easier for me if I could actually experience you doing that.”

It sounds much more like he wants to know what it’s like to be a sub, rather than how to dom his boyfriend. Freddie can’t quite wrap his mind around it. “I thought this was about you domming Kappy?” he asks, to clarify, and Willy fidgets some more.

“It is, sort of. Eventually. I just don’t feel like I can give him what he wants if I don’t understand what exactly he wants to get out of it, you know?” It makes a certain amount of sense, but Freddie has never heard anyone else take this particular approach.

“Have you tried anything like this before?” he asks, to give himself some context, and Willy tenses. 

“I was with this guy once, when I was younger. He—” he pauses looking for the right words. “We, uhm, experimented a bit. He tied me to the headboard of the bed one time and, uh, spanked me.” Freddie wants to press his hand to the red flush of his cheeks to feel if they’re as hot as they look. 

“I didn’t like it,” Willy continues, and the way Freddie can see his shoulders bunch up underneath his sweater suggests that he did a lot more than just not like it. Freddie’s heart sinks. “It felt— I dunno. I didn’t feel...”

“Safe,” Freddie supplies, and Willy shoots him a surprised look, but nods. “Trust is the most important part of any scene.” Willy looks away at that. 

“It wasn’t that serious. We didn’t call it that or anything,” he argues, but Freddie just shakes his head and puts a hand on Willy’s arm, just gentle pressure to get his attention.

“It doesn’t matter what you call it. If you’re in a vulnerable position like that, especially during sex, you need to be able to trust your partner. And I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could,” Freddie says, meeting Willy’s eyes. 

Willy looks down, then picks up one of the glasses on the coffee table and takes a sip, just for something to do. “Guess I didn’t choose the right partner,” he says, sounding very self-deprecating, and Freddie wants to reach out and touch his face, make him look up again. 

“None of that is your fault. You clearly had no experience, and it’s on the person you’re with to make sure you knew what you were getting into, and to ensure that you’re okay with everything and know how to tap out if you’re not,” Freddie says gently, and some tension seems to bleed out of Willy’s shoulders. “I’m not surprised the experience put you off trying anything with Kappy.”

Willy shrugs, his hands running over the cold surface of the glass in his hands. “It’s not that I didn’t try I just... Every time I went to hit him I remembered how bad it felt when— And I couldn’t do that to him, even if he asked me to, you know?” He looks up at Freddie with hopeful eyes. “But back when— In the locker room, he looked like he was enjoying it, like he wasn’t scared at all and I think maybe if I knew how it feels when you do it right, I wouldn’t be so scared either.”

It’s not a bad idea, even if it still sounds terribly backwards to Freddie. There are some flaws in his plan though. “You won’t like the same things Kappy likes and you don’t need to. Not everything works for everyone, some people find it very hard to get into a mindset where a scene would be enjoyable, some people don’t even like to be submissive at all. It’s not for everyone and it doesn’t have to be.”

Willy nods impatiently, like none of this is new information for him. He’s probably had a similar conversation with Kappy before, and Freddie vehemently pushes down the embarrassment he feels at not thinking of that before. There’s nothing wrong with being thorough. 

“I know, but—” Willy looks down again, but Freddie can see the colour rising to his cheeks again. “The way you were talking to Kappy in the locker room, I— I think I could like that. I did like that.”

That takes Freddie completely off guard. “You liked it when I was mean to Kappy?” he asks, baffled, and Willy immediately shakes his head.

“No, not that. Later, when you, uhm—” His face is fully red now but he continues talking “— when you were telling him how well he was doing and...stuff like that,” he finishes weakly. And, honestly, Freddie should not at all be surprised that Willy likes being praised, likes being appreciated, but having it spelled out like that for him, seeing how he’s obviously embarrassed but pushing through it, is still a lot to take in. 

He’s so different from Kappy with what he needs— wants, Freddie corrects mentally. Willy doesn’t need to scene like Kappy does, doesn’t get antsy if he has to go too long without being put down, but he seems so willing to try it, to be convinced of the benefits, that Freddie is having a rather hard time not propositioning him right there. He wants to so badly, wants to offer to show him what it could be like, take him down gently and make him feel good, and the desire is so visceral that he almost loses track of the real purpose of the conversation for a second.

“You want to know what it feels like to be someone’s sub so you can understand Kappy better, so you’re less reluctant to give him what he wants,” he summarizes neatly, steering clear of specific details for now. 

Willy shrugs. “I guess, yeah. I mean, I also want to learn how to— dom him,” he stumbles over the word a bit, but doesn’t let it stop him. “But I kinda wanna know what things feel like before I do it to him. The, you know, the not painful parts. You said there was stuff that Kappy would enjoy, stuff I could do without hurting him. I want you to teach me how to do those, but I also want to know what it feels like.” He takes a gulp from his glass, almost emptying it, then puts it back down on the table with deliberate care. 

“I’m not suggesting we do a scene,” he continues, carefully, like he laid out the words carefully in his mind beforehand. “Just, maybe I could come over some time, and you could show me what exactly it is I could do for Kappy. And then you try it on me so I can know what it feels like.” He doesn’t avoid Freddie’s gaze this time, just looks up at him with earnest interest, and Freddie is the one who feels like looking away. He doesn’t.

“I need to think about this,” he says, buying himself some time, and when Willy’s shoulders slump he adds, “I’m not saying no, but I’ve never done this before, and I’d like to do some research before I agree to anything.”

The smile on Willy’s face has an edge of mischief to it. “You like to be prepared in all areas of your life, huh?” he asks.

Freddie easily smiles back. “In this one more than in most. But as a rule, yes.” 

There’s a beat of silence, then Willy starts fidgeting with the hem of his sweater again. “I guess that means I should leave.”

Freddie suddenly finds that he really doesn’t want him to. “You don’t have to,” he says. “We could have dinner. Unless you have plans?” Willy’s back straightens, but he doesn’t look tense or uncomfortable, just attentive. 

“I don’t,” he confirms. “Kappy has a physio appointment and he usually just gets something from catering afterwards. Dinner would be great,” he says with a smile. 

“How do you feel about salmon with rice?” Freddie asks, already getting up to go to the kitchen.

“Like, ordering it?” Willy asks, and Freddie snorts.

“Sometimes I wonder how you all survive,” he says, getting out the ingredients. “And then I remember you have lots of money.”

“I can cook,” Willy says, sounding just the slightest bit offended. “Some things. I’m not as bad as Kappy. But ordering in is easier.” 

Freddie can’t dispute that so he just shrugs. “I don’t mind it.”

“Do you want me to help with anything?” Willy asks, apparently having decided to be a good guest, but Freddie shakes his head.

“Just sit there and look pretty,” he says, and then winces. Not appropriate. 

The tension from before doesn’t return though. Willy just grins at him. “I can definitely do that.”

It’s strangely nice, to have Willy around while he cooks, glancing over to find him engrossed in his phone while he seasons the salmon. Freddie’s always liked cooking, finds it relaxing, following instructions with just enough creative freedom not to be too dull, and it’s no different with someone else in the room.

The clanking of plates when Freddie sets the table finally makes Willy look up. “Oh wow, that smells good,” he comments, slinking over to the dining table. Freddie doesn’t allow himself more than a little smile at the compliment. 

“Have a seat,” he instructs, and Willy does, waiting for Freddie to serve him a plate. 

“This is amazing,” he says after the first bite. “I’m gonna have to invite myself over more often,” he continues with a grin, as if he expects Freddie to turn him down. Freddie should probably play along, but he doesn’t really want to.

“I generally appreciate some warning beforehand, but you’re welcome to,” he says, surprising himself with how much he means it. Willy and him don’t usually see each other much outside the rink, but Freddie finds that he really likes having him in his space. He’s strangely unobtrusive, not demanding much of Freddie’s attention, while still somehow being a solid presence. 

Willy looks surprised for just a second, then he quickly looks down. “Is that offer still open, even if you decide not to...teach me stuff?” he asks, hesitant, and Freddie wants to touch him again, to physically reassure him that he’s wanted. It’s been a while since he’s cared about someone who radiates the need to be valued the way Willy does, and he’s startlingly unprepared for how it makes him feel.

If he’s being honest he’s already decided. Asking for some consideration time is much more about figuring out logistics, making a plan for what Willy is expecting of him and how he can best provide it without overstepping any boundaries. 

“Yeah, even if we don’t do anything, you’re still always welcome here,” he says anyway, just to see the way the responding smile lights up Willy’s face.

He gets to planning as soon as Willy leaves that evening, making a list of potential things to try, ranking them by difficulty and likeliness that they might scare Willy off.

He gives himself three days to get his head on straight, to evaluate if he can actually do this. 

In the few times he’s had the privilege, he’s always immensely enjoyed introducing someone to BDSM, has always loved their surprise at the level of intimacy or trust, and the sheer quantity of new and intense sensations.

It’s a special sort of thrill. Not something he misses, necessarily, but something he certainly wouldn’t mind doing again. There’s one detail that gives him pause though. He’d been dating every other person he’d introduced to BDSM, had enjoyed helping them figure out what they liked and what they wanted as a step in their relationship, something to bring them even closer. Never just to indulge someone’s curiosity.

Not only are he and Willy not dating, Willy is also in a relationship with someone else. Someone else who Freddie doms on a fairly regular basis. Someone else who Willy would eventually like to dom as well. 

It doesn’t have to be a problem though, Freddie tries to convince himself when he’s lying in his bed that evening. He can see this as a challenge, a complication to be navigated. All he has to do is draw some boundaries and stick to them.

A voice in the back of his mind helpfully asks why he wants to do this in the first place, what he’s getting out of this, but he does his best to shut it up. It’s a question he’s going to have to answer sooner rather than later, but for now the idea of helping out a teammate is enough.

————— 

Freddie’s still exhausted from the game the day before, a pleasant ache settling in his muscles as he sits on the bed, looking over at Kappy. 

Kappy’s wearing a blindfold, his hands neatly folded in his lap, fingers interlocked so they don’t slide off his violently twitching muscles, or disturb the electrodes attached to his inner thighs. There’s sweat beading on his forehead, some of it running down the side of his neck to his tense shoulders as he tries to keep still, even though it’s impossible.

Freddie loves watching him like this, watching him struggle to keep his composure as long as he can until he finally gives in, his back bowing as the electrical current turns from merely uncomfortable to genuinely painful, his whole body shaking with it. His lips are bitten raw from him trying to keep quiet, to stop the involuntary gasps threatening to slip from his throat, but eventually he has to give up on even that, letting out small, pained whimpers instead. 

Freddie adjusts his position, spreads his legs a bit to be more comfortable. Even with how long they’ve been sceneing together, this part is a new development. While it’s not totally uncommon for Kappy to get hard when his body responds to the pain, Freddie had been much better at not reacting before. 

Ever since he’s seen what Kappy actually looks when he comes, when he allows the pain to tip him over the edge completely, it’s been hard not to think of what they do together as something sexual. 

As he watches Kappy’s mouth drop open on a particularly loud moan, he can’t help but think of him on his knees in a similar fashion, with a cock in his mouth. Kappy might even appreciate the distraction, having something else to focus on. 

Freddie can’t help but picture a third participant in their scene, burying his hand in Kappy’s hair and tugging while Kappy blows him, overwhelming him with even more sensations than just the electric current. 

And once he’s there, he can’t quite stop himself from thinking back to his conversation with Willy, can’t help but wonder if electrostim would be a thing Willy would be comfortable doing with Kappy, if it’s indirect enough for him to not mind inflicting pain that way. A traitorous part of Freddie’s mind can’t help but wonder if it might be something Willy would like to try on himself, and it’s far too easy to imagine.

All Freddie would have to do is suggest it, and then he’d get to watch, would get to follow along as initial apprehension would flow into slight discomfort, and finally end up with Willy’s large blue eyes looking up at him through slightly wet eyelashes, flushed and overwhelmed and shyly pleased when Freddie finally made it stop and told him how well he’d done. 

It wouldn’t even have to hurt, could just be uncomfortable, something Willy could easily bear for the sake of being praised afterwards. He’d be so different from Kappy in that way, but not any less enticing for it. 

It’s far too easy to imagine for something that Freddie still hasn’t even officially agreed to, something that Willy might not even see the same way. 

Kappy lets out a soundless moan and his head drops forwards. His breath is coming out hard and fast, but he doesn’t make any more noise, and Freddie takes that as the cue it is. 

He kneels down behind Kappy and turns off the electricity. He catches Kappy when he starts to slump forward at the sudden loss of sensation, wraps an arm around Kappy’s torso to support him and pull him backwards instead so he can lean against Freddie’s chest, while Freddie detaches the electrodes.

Kappy’s skin is slick with sweat, staining Freddie’s shirt in the places where they touch, but going shirtless, being pressed together skin to skin had felt too intimate, like something they should have negotiated beforehand. Still, Freddie can feel the heat of Kappy’s body even through the fabric, and he puts one hand on Kappy’s side, stroking along the skin soothingly. 

“How’re you doing?” Freddie asks, and Kappy just hums in response, apparently not feeling up to words yet. He’s still wearing the blindfold, but when Freddie carefully takes it off, his eyes are closed anyway. He doesn’t react much to Freddie touching his thighs, running his hands along the skin there to make sure the electrodes didn’t leave any unwanted marks behind. 

Freddie studiously ignores the bulge in Kappy’s briefs, the wet spot in the fabric. He might be the cause of it, in an indirect, roundabout way, but that doesn’t mean it’s for him to do something about. Even if he’d like to do something about it.

Slowly, Kappy’s brain seems to come back online, and he starts to move in Freddie’s arms, pressing in closer instead of pulling away, and Freddie lets him. He tries hard not to react, not to give into the desire to start caressing him in a more affectionate, caring way. Tries to just give him the comfort he needs while still being professional about it. 

Kappy blinks a couple of times, letting his eyes adjust to the light in the room that’s been dimmed for exactly this reason. 

“Everything okay?” Freddie asks, and this time Kappy nods in response. 

“Yeah.” He rolls his shoulders and slowly unfolds himself from where he’s tucked into Freddie’s body. “I feel great. I really needed that. Thanks,” he adds, with a gentle touch to Freddie’s arm. 

“Anytime,” Freddie replies, helping him get into a more comfortable position. “Do you want a shower before you head out?” Kappy shakes his head, and Freddie forces himself not to react to that, to avoid tensing up or showing his disappointment in an equally telling way. 

“Nah, Willy’s picking me up, and he likes to, you know.” Freddie doesn’t, actually, but he finds it easy enough to imagine that Willy likes the aftercare. He’d seemed perfectly comfortable with it after the locker room scene, seemed to enjoy being able to take care of someone else. 

“Alright.” Freddie reaches for his phone, shooting Willy a quick text to let him know they’re done for the day. Then he cracks open a water bottle and hands it to Kappy, watching him drink the whole thing without protest. “Any lingering pain?” he asks. “Any muscle strain or unusual tension?”

Kappy takes a moment to stretch out each leg individually and lean into the feeling, and Freddie appreciates that he’s taking this seriously. “All good,” Kappy confirms, then stretches his arm over his head until his back pops. 

Freddie hands him a granola bar that Kappy gratefully wolfs down, sitting cross-legged on the floor, not even the least bit self-conscious about the fact that he’s still mostly naked. “Do you feel ready to get up?” Freddie asks, once he’s done, and helps Kappy stand up when he gets a nod in confirmation.

Kapy doesn’t look like his legs are quite up for carrying his weight yet, so Freddie keeps an arm wrapped around his middle to support him. 

He doesn’t linger, just gets Kappy sat down on his bed, which is a clear improvement from the floor, even with the thick carpet, and gets to work on dressing him.

Kappy is still a bit uncoordinated, still not fully in control of his legs, so he mostly just holds still while Freddie pulls a pair of sweatpants over his feet and then helps him wrangle them up his legs. 

His hair is even more curly than usual, some strands of it sticking to his forehead, and it makes Freddie want to reach out and brush them out of his face. He looks away.

"Anything else you need?" Freddie asks, busying himself with collecting the electrodes that are still lying on the floor, right where he left them. Kappy shakes his head and leans back on his elbows, looking down at Freddie. He looks clear-headed now, but still exhausted, his eyes only half open.

"You know," he starts, sounding pensive, but before he can continue, Freddie's intercom chimes, announcing Willy's impending presence, and instantly drawing Kappy's attention.

“Mr. Nylander here to see you,” the doorman informs them when Freddie picks up, and Freddie should probably think about having him whitelisted if he’s going to be coming over more often.

“Send him right up.” He manages to get Kappy back into his sweater and into the living room by the time there’s a knock on the door.

Freddie doesn’t waste any time opening it. Willy looks fairly similar to the way he had at his last visit, in an elegant gray coat and a grey beanie. He smiles, a bit sheepish, and Freddie wants to ask him to come in, to stay for a bit, but this next bit isn’t for him.

He steps to the side so Kappy doesn’t have to push past him. Kappy makes a happy noise and practically falls into his boyfriend’s waiting arms, burying his nose in the collar of Willy’s jacket, and one of Willy’s hands comes up to softly pet at his hair. 

“Had a good time?” he asks, and he’s looking at Freddie, even though the question is clearly not directed at him. Kappy hums happily and snuggles even closer, and Freddie’s heart does something entirely unnecessary at the validation of it. He doesn’t dwell on it, just watches as Kappy lets most of his weight rest on Willy, the only indicator that the muscles in his legs must still be tired, maybe still hurting even. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Willy says, amused, and then smiles at Freddie, inviting him in on the moment. “What about you, you had a good time?” he asks, and Freddie blinks at him, thrown.

“I always do,” he says, unsure of how else to respond. It seems enough to pacify Willy though because his smile brightens, gaining some warmth, and Freddie isn’t sure what to make of that either. 

Willy grabs Kappy’s shoulder, making to stand him up a bit more. “You ready to head home?” he asks, and Kappy nods, finally removing his face from the soft fabric of Willy’s coat. 

“Need a shower too,” he mumbles, tangling his fingers in Willy’s sleeve to have something to hold on to. 

“That can be arranged,” Willy replies, voice still full of warmth, and a part of Freddie is glad that he’s taking over this part. He seems so infinitely comfortable taking care of Kappy, not one bit of hesitation or doubt and all the gentleness in the world. Another part of Freddie is horribly, terribly jealous, and a third one desperately wants them to stay, wants to watch and be included and just bask in their intimacy for a bit.

He squashes that part down violently, and straightens up. “You should get going. He should be settled somewhere warm as soon as possible,” he adds with a nod towards Kappy, and Willy nods in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He hesitates, the first time this evening. “Thanks, Freddie,” he says, surprising Freddie for the second time with the breach in their routine. He doesn’t say anything more, just looks at Freddie expectantly. 

“I enjoy this as much as he does, you know that,” Freddie says instead of something more gracious. 

Willy just shrugs. “Yeah well, I still appreciate you taking care of him.”

Freddie doesn’t quite know what to say to that. “Anytime,” he settles on, because it’s essentially true and feels somewhat appropriate. “See you at practice.” 

Willy gives him a wave and tightens his grip around Kappy’s waist before turning them around to leave. Freddie closes the door before the temptation to watch them all the way to the elevator becomes too strong.

His apartment feels strangely empty, even more so than it usually does after Kappy leaves. It’s gotten worse in the past week, ever since he started seeing Kappy in a new light, but he has a routine for this and routines always help. First he goes to gather up his equipment and clean it thoroughly. There isn’t much today, the electrodes don’t need any particular care and the wires aren’t even particularly tangled. 

There never is much cleaning up after scenes like this. They can’t risk any possibly impeding or even distracting injuries whenever they’re between games, and most things that don’t leave behind somewhat-lasting traces also tend to not make much of a mess.

After his equipment is carefully packed away, Freddie goes to make some dinner, nothing complicated but just involved enough for him to have to pay attention to what he’s doing. 

His phone chimes while he’s peeling potatoes, and he puts down the peeler to look at it. _What did you do to him tonight?_ the message from Willy reads. Before Freddie has time to even think about a response another one appears. _I’m just wondering cause I can’t find any marks anywhere._

That just poses the question of how thoroughly he usually checks, if he looks at the traces Freddie leaves behind and reconstructs what might have caused them. If that’s a regular part of his aftercare routine. Freddie doesn’t let himself dwell on the thought for too long. 

He hesitates before answering. They haven’t talked about it since Willy brought it up, since he made his proposition, but Freddie has already decided. 

_How about I show you? _he sends back instead of an answer. It doesn’t take long for Willy to respond, even though he stops and starts typing a couple of times.

_That’s even better. When do you want me? _The phrasing paints a nice but inaccurate picture and Freddie quickly wipes it away. He doesn’t even have to think of an available time, had already picked out a suitable date when he first considered what he could show Willy. 

_How about Wednesday? _he writes. They don’t have another game until Friday and he and Kappy have a scene scheduled on Tuesday. Wednesday they just have a practice, and loads of free time afterwards.

Willy just sends back an exclamation mark, but Freddie figures that counts as agreement.

————— 

Freddie isn’t nervous exactly, but he can’t deny that he’s feeling some slight apprehension. It’s not rational. In the worst-case scenario, Willy doesn’t get it, is maybe a bit freaked out, and doesn’t want to try it ever again. Things might be a bit awkward after that, but it’s not like they had a particularly close relationship before.

Overall there’s nothing to be nervous about. Freddie still checks his equipment three times, second guesses the gear he’s chosen for this first session, and prepares a selection of cut-up fruit snacks just in case one of them ends up needing them.

This time the doorman doesn’t call before sending Willy up, so there’s nothing except the soft knock on the door to warn him of his visitor.

All of Freddie’s nerves disappear when he sees Willy standing in his doorway. Whatever he might have felt before, it doesn’t even compare to how nervous Willy looks. His lower lip looks red and raw like he’s been chewing on it all through the drive over here, and his shoulders are hunched defensively like he’s about to face a group of reporters after a bad loss. 

“You know we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Freddie says, before Willy’s even closed the door behind him. “If you’re not comfortable—”

“I’m fine,” Willy interrupts him, more brusque than he usually is. He grimaces. “Sorry, just— Kinda nervous.” 

Freddie nods understandingly. “Would it help if I told you that I’m just going to show you some of the equipment for now? We can decide if you want to use any of it afterwards, but it’s not the priority today.”

Willy’s shoulders relax a bit. “That’s— Yeah, that helps.” He goes to take off his jacket, then hesitates. “I mean, I’m still kinda nervous to be honest. I’m kinda out of my depth here,” he confesses, and Freddie can’t help but smile at that.

“I’m aware,” he teases, then gets serious. “But that you’re willing to tell me that is a good start. I need you to be honest with me, tell me if you’re not comfortable with anything. None of this works without trust.”

“Yeah, you said that,” Willy says. “And I do. Trust you, I mean. It’s just…”

“You’re out of your depth,” Freddie repeats his words from before. “People usually are whenever they try something new. That’s why I’m here. Ask any questions you want.”

Willy still looks overwhelmed, so Freddie takes the jacket he’s still holding out of his hands and hangs it up. “How about we go sit down and I tell you exactly what the plan for today is?”

Willy nods, and Freddie guides him over to the couch with a hand on his back, then pushes down on his shoulders to get him to sit down. It’s a somewhat risky move, but Willy has always been a tactile person, and the risk pays off when Willy breathes out, some of the tension bleeding out of his rigid frame.

“Okay,” he says, settling a bit deeper into the couch pillows and looking at Freddie expectantly. Freddie sits down next to him, the movement unhurried. 

“Like I said, I mostly want to show you some of the equipment today. I thought about what you said and I set out a couple of things I think you might be comfortable with. To use on Kappy, I mean.” Freddie has to suppress a wince at the clumsy wording, but Willy doesn’t seem to notice his slip-up.

“Sounds good.” He brushes his hair out of his face, another one of his nervous habits. “Is there anything I need to know beforehand? Like, are there any rules?”

Freddie thinks that over for a moment. “Don’t touch anything without asking me first,” he decides. There isn’t actually anything advanced enough for Willy to accidentally injure himself, but the idea of him picking up Freddie’s things with curious carelessness just doesn’t sit well with him. 

“Sounds reasonable,” Willy agrees. “Anything else? Isn’t there, like etiquette and stuff?” Freddie has to smile at that.

“Not outside of a scene. Feel free to say whatever you want,” he says, and Willy nods. “That’s all I can think of right now, but I’ll let you know if there’s anything else.”

“Alright,” Willy says, his fingers drumming on his thighs in nervous anticipation. Freddie feels like he might be overestimating the excitement of looking at a bit of bondage gear, but he doesn’t comment, just gets up and gestures for Willy to follow.

“Are we going to your bedroom?” Willy asks, walking just a step behind, close enough that they’re almost touching. 

“No, I usually use the guest room for this.” He doesn’t use this particular guest room for anything else, in fact, but starting off with the concept of a playroom might be a bit much.

“Oh. Right.” He sounds disappointed, and Freddie pushes the thought away as soon as it springs into existence. This has enough potential to become very messy very fast without him indulging in fantasies. 

“This is where the magic happens,” Freddie says sarcastically, pushing open the door. In truth, there isn’t much to look at. It’s large and spacious, with a bed, a small lounging area and some dressers, a soft, plush carpet taking up the whole middle of the room. 

The look on Willy’s face is nonetheless curious as his gaze wanders over every piece of furniture, every piece of artwork on the walls. 

“Ah, so there is a bed in here,” he says with some satisfaction, and a new thought occurs to Freddie. 

“You know Kappy and I don’t have sex, right?” he asks. Much to his relief, Willy snorts.

“Yeah, I know. Though I really don’t—” he breaks off abruptly, his cheeks turning red. “Sorry, that’s— None of my business. I just kinda figured a bed was a part of the setup,” he deflects quickly before Freddie can ask.

“Actually, I usually make Kappy kneel on the carpet,” Freddie says. Willy’s gaze immediately drops to the floor, and a moment later he does as well, his knees hitting the soft surface. His posture isn’t practiced like Kappy’s would be, his back not straight enough, but it still makes Freddie’s breath catch. 

“I can see that,” Willy says, completely oblivious to Freddie’s reaction. He runs one hand over the carpet, feeling the material, and shifts a bit. “It’s not super comfortable, but I could probably stay like this for a while without fucking up my knees.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” Freddie says, reminding himself more than Willy, and holds out a hand to pull him back to his feet. Willy happily accepts. 

This is not at all going how Freddie had expected. For one, Willy is far more engaged, far less timid than he had been when he’d first walked in the door. It’s a relief to see him relax so easily, but it isn’t at all what Freddie had planned for. 

He’d expected to have to coax Willy into the room, had expected him to stay mostly silent while Freddie gave his explanations and only really ask questions if he truly didn’t understand something. 

Secondly, Freddie had severely underestimated his own reaction to seeing Willy so eager to learn and experience. He’d prepared himself to wrestle down the flare of attraction that occasionally popped up when he spends too much time around Willy, or when Kappy gets a bit too wrapped up in telling a story about his boyfriend, but nothing had prepared him for seeing Willy in his space, on his knees and wondering how long he’d be willing to stay there. 

“Well, it’s kinda why we’re here, isn’t it?” Willy says, not at all aware of Freddie’s crisis. “I mean, I wanna know what it feels like after all.” The more Freddie considers that scenario the worse and more enticing an idea it becomes.

“Not now,” he replies. “This is just about showing you the setup, walking you through a scene without actually being in one.” They need to do a lot of talking before they should even think about doing a full scene together. Clearly not discussing Willy’s expectations for this little excursion alone had been a bit of an oversight already. 

Willy accepts his comment without fuss, just straightens his shoulders and looks at Freddie expectantly and doesn’t rush him. Freddie takes a breath, not too deep but steady, returning to the baseline. He steps closer to the bed. Usually he keeps his equipment in the set of dressers on the other side of the room, but he hadn’t wanted to root through them with someone looking over his shoulder, so he’s already set out a selection of things he wants to show Willy today.

He doesn’t say anything in the beginning, just watches Willy’s reaction as his eyes wander over the different articles laid out in front of him. He’s leaning forward slightly as if he wants to get a closer look and reaches out towards the simple coil of dark rope, but then apparently remembers not to touch.

Freddie doesn’t know if he should regret setting the rule. He would love to see Willy carefully run his fingers over some of the things he’s laid out, pick some up to examine them closer, but it’s probably a good thing he’s spared the sight before they’ve had time to set some more ground rules. 

“I was thinking we should start with restraints, since that’s something you already said you’d probably be comfortable with,” he explains and Willy nods in agreement.

Freddie picks up the rope, thin enough to bend easily, but sturdy enough to hold no matter how much someone might pull on it, the material smooth enough not to chafe against skin. “Rope usually isn’t used by beginners because it requires some familiarity with knots in order to be safe,” he explains and Willy nods again, gaze on the rope in Freddie’s hand. 

“You can use it though?” he asks, and Freddie has to smile a bit at that. 

“Yes. I’ve been doing this for quite a bit.” 

Willy shrugs, looking a bit sheepish but thankfully not truly embarrassed. “Can you show me, then?” he asks, just like Freddie had expected. 

“Eventually, if you still want me to, but there’s a lot of other restraints that will work better to start with.” He puts the rope back down and gestures at the assortment of leather restraints lying next to it, the material worn soft with use.

Willy raises an eyebrow. “What, no handcuffs?” he teases. “Gotta say that was the first thing I expected when you said restraints.”

Freddie shrugs. “Not really my thing. They feel very...abrupt.” He’s not really sure how to expand on that, but Willy nods like he understands what Freddie’s talking about. 

“Right, with the metal and the chains and stuff. That makes sense.” His eyes wander over the different types of restraints laid out in front of him. “Why so many though? Are they just different lengths?”

Freddie shakes his head. “That’s part of it, but most of these have other advantages as well.” He picks up the pair that finds the most use, two strips of leather connecting cuffs lined with soft fur. “These ones are especially designed to be comfortable. They won’t cut into your skin no matter how you pull at them, so they can stay on for quite some time.”

He picks up a different pair. “These don’t have any lining so the edges of the leather will bite into your wrist if you pull at them.” He runs his fingers over the hard edges, feeling the texture, then puts them back down. 

“Most of these are combination pieces. They can hook into each other to force you into different positions.” He points are couple of medium length leather bands that don’t have cuffs, just clasps and buckles. “These can be used for stress positions, tying your wrists to your ankles, that sort of thing.” He looks at to Willy to see if he’s still following. 

Willy’s eyes are wide, his cheeks pink, and his mouth is opened just slightly, just enough that Freddie can see the wet sheen of his lower lip. “Everything okay?” he asks, and Willy nods quickly, his eyes flicking back down to the restraints.

“Yeah, just—” He breaks off and Freddie can see his throat work as he swallows. “Can I, uhm…”

“Go ahead,” Freddie agrees, and Willy pauses with his hand hovering over the closest pair of leather restraints. He sends Freddie another quick glance, but when Freddie doesn’t object, he finally reaches out. 

He just brushes his fingers across the soft material, slow like he’s savoring the feeling, then picks it up so he can inspect it closer. “I kind of expected it to be harder,” he says, seeming almost lost in thought and Freddie finds it entirely too difficult to take his eyes off him.

“Only the edges,” Freddie corrects, and then watches Willy carefully run a finger across the fringe of the cuff. 

“Can I put this on?” Willy asks, still touching the cuff carefully, like something precious and important. Freddie’s throat feels very dry all of a sudden and he has to resist the urge to clear it.

“Not now.” Freddie’s voice thankfully doesn’t sound as rough as it feels. “I was just going to show you the equipment for now, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Willy drops the cuffs back on the bed, but he keeps running his fingers over the gear laid out in front of him, feeling the different textures, from the soft fur lining of one of the cuffs to the hard metal of a clasp.

“You use these on Kappy?” he asks, and of course, Freddie should have guessed that his mind would go there. 

His first instinct is to decline all comment like he had before, but Kappy had very offhandedly told Freddie that he would be more than fine with Willy knowing all the details of what they do together. So offhandedly in fact, that Freddie is completely sure that Willy must have dropped some not very subtle hints that he’d like to know more.

“Sometimes,” he eventually replies. “It’s not usually just restraints with Kappy, though they do come in handy quite often.”

Willy nods.“So, what was the thing you did to Kappy last time? He was really out of it, like he gets when we have a couple of days off and you can— you know.” 

It’s nice to hear how well the e-stim worked. Freddie had been pretty confident about it anyway, but he usually doesn’t see Kappy for long enough after a scene to properly observe him.

He hadn’t set out the e-stim kit today, hadn’t wanted to risk scaring Willy off, but he’s taken everything in stride so far. “Have you ever heard of electrostimulation?” he asks anyway, just to be sure. 

“Like, using electricity to—” He breaks off, his brow furrowed. “Wouldn’t that hurt?” Freddie raises an eyebrow. Willy goes red. “Right, sorry.”

Freddie takes pity on him. “It doesn’t have to. At lower settings it’s mostly just uncomfortable, makes your muscles tense and release without your control. Feels a bit like pins and needles.”

“You’ve tried it?” Willy asks, sounding surprised. 

“I always try new equipment on myself, just to see if it’s safe, what it can do. But I generally like being the one inflicting pain, you know that.” 

“Yeah, but—” Willy bites his lip. “Yeah, no, you’re right.” It’s interesting to see him try to wrap his head around it, how it seems just as hard for him to understand that Freddie would like to cause pain as it had been to understand Kappy wanting to be hurt. Freddie gives him a minute. 

“Can I see it?” Willy asks, surprising Freddie once again. “You said it’s something I might also like,” he continues

“Sure, give me a moment.” It doesn’t take long for Freddie to get the kit. It’s in a small case with a gray inlay and a dedicated place for each item, the coiled up wires and the multiple electrodes with the variable attachments, all draped around the small generator. Willy makes a sceptical face when Freddie presents the open case to him.

“That looks like the stuff we use for physio,” he says, and Freddie almost has to laugh.

“It’s the same principle, but you can turn up the dosage much higher. It also doesn’t require sticking needles into anyone. You can touch it if you want to,” he adds. Willy had wanted to touch most of the other gear that had interested him, and this is no different.

He’s careful as he picks up the different attachments for the electrodes. He shies away from the clamps and their dulled teeth, but marvels at the small button attachments. “So where would you usually put these?” 

Freddie considers that for a moment. “It depends on what you want to achieve, really. If you want to have a more concentrated effect you usually put them closer together, and usually in quite sensitive places.” Like running electricity from one of Kappy’s thighs to the other, but Freddie won’t provide that detail unless he asks for it.

“You can theoretically run the current through whatever you want, given there are no medical conditions that prevent it, but you should make sure to steer clear of the chest area.” Willy thinks that over for a moment. 

“Can we try it?” he asks, then clarifies, “On me, I mean,” as if that is the part that’s giving Freddie pause, that makes him take a moment to wrestle down the desire to say yes.

“Not today,” he says, more for himself than for Willy. “But yes, I thought this might be something that would…be appropriate.” _Something that you’d like_, he wants to say, but they still haven’t talked about that, are still pretending that this is entirely for Kappy’s benefit, and Freddie isn’t entirely sure that it is a pretense for Willy.

“I think I can see that,” Willy agrees. “It would be different from hitting him, I guess.” He bites his lip. “Maybe that would be worse though, being so removed from it. I don’t know…”

“Well, that’s why we’re here. To help you figure it out.” It’s only half true, maybe not even that much in Freddie’s case, but he’s made his bed. It makes Willy smile at him, soft and trusting, so it can’t be too bad a choice. 

“I usually use it in combination with some restraints, maybe a blindfold or some noise-cancelling headphones. Sensory deprivation really helps increase the physical sensation, so that is something you could do if you’re worried about turning it up too high.” Not that there really was a setting high enough Kappy wouldn’t enjoy it, the challenge was usually timing it right so he didn’t lose himself too much in the feeling.

“Yeah, that— that sounds good,” Willy says, his cheeks growing pink again. Freddie can’t help but wonder what he’s imagining, if he’s picturing Kappy the way Freddie had seen him just a few days ago, or if he’s thinking about the sensation itself, about Freddie doing it to him. 

“I think that’s enough for now,” Freddie decides, more for his own benefit than Willy’s. His voice comes out a bit too abrupt, a bit too commanding, and Willy looks hesitant for the first time since they’ve entered the room. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Freddie reassures him immediately, “I just think we should talk more about what your expectations are, now that we have a basis to work with.”

Willy’s shoulders relax and he nods. “Let’s go to the living room,” Freddie says, and resists the urge to put a hand on Willy’s back and guide him there, especially when Willy’s gaze lingers on the equipment laid out on the bed before he turns to go.

Willy is quiet as he settles back down on the couch, and Freddie decides to give him a bit of space, heading to the kitchen to get both of them something to drink.

“Having second thoughts?” he asks, sitting down on the other end of the couch. Fortunately Willy immediately shakes his head.

“No, just— I don’t know. It’s kinda hard to imagine, still.” He pauses, looking for the right words. “I mean, I know a bit about what you do with Kappy, and I find it a lot easier to understand what he likes after seeing it back when— you know.” He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater, something he hadn’t done all the while they’d been in the playroom.

“But it’s kinda hard to imagine myself fitting into that. I’m not— I couldn’t be like you, I think. I can tie him up and cover his eyes and I think maybe I could even hurt him a little, but it all seems so—” He’s properly wringing his hands now and Freddie resists the urge to reach out and take them into his own, just to keep him still. 

“I mean, you had this whole...presence,” Willy finally settles on. “Not just in the locker room, but even when you were explaining stuff to me just now. I can’t do that.” 

It gives Freddie a very specific kind of thrill to hear Willy talk like that, admitting that he’s affected by Freddie’s mere demeanor, sounding like he might even be drawn to it. Still, Freddie can’t afford to dwell on that.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Kappy wants that from you,” he starts, making Willy look back up. “My way isn’t the only way to dom someone.” He waits for Willy to react to the word. He’s been avoiding using too much actual terminology in order not to scare him off, but Willy doesn’t look embarrassed. If anything, he perks up a bit.

“Take your role in...the locker room.” They seem to have fallen into calling it that, even though it sounds vaguely ridiculous to Freddie’s ears. Still, he can see how ‘that time we both dommed your boyfriend in front of our whole team and watched him get off on it’ might be a bit of a mouthful. 

“You were in charge of him then. He clearly saw you that way. He listened to your directions, wanted your approval, your attention.” _Possibly even more than mine_, Freddie silently adds. It had been an interesting experience. 

If anyone had told Freddie beforehand that he’d be fine with sharing a scene with a second dom he would have laughed in their face. He hadn’t expected Willy to get that involved, but it had worked out surprisingly well, since Willy had shown absolutely no interest in challenging Freddie’s authority, just complementing it with his own instructions.

“Okay, but that’s not—” Willy pauses, takes a breath. “That was only cause you were there, and he was already in the right mindset. I don’t think I can get him there on my own, not like that.” 

Freddie has to disagree. It doesn’t take much to get Kappy into a submissive headspace, and from what he’s seen, he always seems especially eager to please Willy.

“I don’t think that’s true. Do you know how Kappy and I usually start a scene?” Freddie asks.

Willy looks a bit uncertain. “He mentioned something about kneeling one time…”

Freddie nods. “That’s right. He always kneels down right over there at the start of a scene,” he says, pointing over at a rug laid out in front of a bookcase, next to the entrance to the playroom. “Sometimes he does it right when he comes in the door, sometimes he doesn’t and we talk first, but it always starts the same way. He gets into position and when I put my hand on his neck we start the scene.”

The expression on Willy’s face isn’t uninterested, but slightly guarded. “Do you understand why I’m telling you this?” Freddie asks. 

Willy takes a second to respond. “Because that’s something I could do as well?” he finally settles on, and Freddie smiles.

“For the most part, yes. But also because routine can be an important part of getting into a mindset. No matter what state he’s in when he walks through the door, as soon as he's settled down over there he’s ready to submit.” Freddie has always loved that, the clear structure, the straightforwardness of sceneing with Kappy.

Willy looks pensive. “That makes sense, I guess. But how do you do it? How do you get into your mindset?”

“Same thing, really. I put my hand on his neck and I know that it’s my turn to take care of him, to be in charge and make sure he gets what he needs.” There are other things to it as well, a certain posture, a breathing pattern, but it conveys the point well enough.

Willy shuffles a bit in his seat, but he’s not moving away. “That sounds nice,” he mumbles.

“It is,” Freddie agrees. “It won’t happen the first time, and probably not the fifth time either, but you’ll get there eventually.” 

There’s a moment of silence, the Willy straightens up. “Okay. When can we get started?” 

“That depends. What exactly do you want from me?” Freddie asks. “Now that you’ve seen some of the gear, what do you want to try, and how?”

“The cuffs,” he says, fast enough that he must have been thinking about it for a while. “I just, that seems like a good place to start, right?”

Freddie nods. “Good choice. When should we meet?”

Willy falters a bit at that. “Oh, I— I was thinking we could do it now.”

Freddie blinks. It’s not impossible, he has everything set up for it already, and he had gone into their meeting prepared for the possibility of a practical demonstration, but after Willy’s nervousness earlier he hadn’t really thought they’d do anything today.

“We don’t have to,” Freddie offers. “But if you want to, I guess we do have everything set up.”

“I think I’d like to try it now,” Willy says and his voice doesn’t shake. He doesn’t seem nervous anymore, but Freddie still watches him a bit longer, just to see if there’s any hint he might have some ulterior reason for doing this, something he needs to prove to himself. 

Willy doesn’t look away, and Freddie relents. “Alright. Let’s go.”

————— 

It takes a moment for Freddie to put the superfluous equipment away. He makes Willy wait in the living room, partially so he can set up properly, and partially so he can breathe. There’s no reason for Freddie to be nervous. He’s not the one doing this for the first time, after all. Still, there’s something daunting about the premise of quite literally showing Willy the ropes.

“Do you want me to kneel on the floor?” Is the first thing Willy asks when Freddie beckons him into the room, sounding unsure. 

“That won’t be necessary. Not unless you feel it’s important for you to get the full experience.” Not that he would anyway, Freddie has no plans to actually hurt Willy, not like he would Kappy. 

“Okay, what do I do then? Just stand?” The uncertainty is exactly what Freddie usually wants to avoid. He likes for his subs to have clear instructions, to never be without guidance. But Willy isn’t really his sub, and he wouldn’t be doing either one of them any favors by treating him that way. 

“Just sit down wherever seems most comfortable to you,” he says instead, and after some hesitation Willy settles down on the bed, still looking slightly apprehensive. “You know you don’t—”

“Have to do this. I know,” Willy finishes, and that’s another reminder that they’re not doing an actual scene. Freddie would have never allowed his sub to interrupt him unless it was to safeword out. He needs to figure out his mindset and fast.

Willy does not at all help his case by casually swinging his legs up on the bed as well, and settling back against the headboard. It would be easy to tie him there, his hands against the headboard, spread apart a bit so he wouldn’t have much room to strain against his bonds. 

It would be a good option, if Freddie could get his unruly thoughts under control, could look at Willy and only see a friend, someone who wants to learn something that Freddie can teach him. Instead all Freddie can think about is the way the muscles in his arms would look when he’d pull against the restraints, how Freddie could put a blindfold on him and watch him grow continuously more restless at having to stay still.

He takes another breath, and steps closer to the bed. This is a terrible idea. “I’m going to tie your hands to the headboard,” he explains, making it sound matter-of-fact. “Then we’ll see how you’re feeling and if you want to do anything else today.”

Willy raises an eyebrow at that, another stark reminder that this isn’t a real scene. “That seems...simple.”

Freddie shrugs. “True, but it’s a good start. Especially since you said this is something you’ve had a bad experience with in the past. It’s always good to move slow.”

Willy blushes and drops his gaze. “That was different. That guy was an asshole. You’re not.” 

Freddie badly wants to touch him, wants to run a hand through his hair, and reward him for his honesty, his trust.

He clears his throat. “Still, it’s good to start slow.” 

Willy shrugs. “You’re the expert,” he says, then grips the headboard experimentally. “Like this?” It’s not quite right, his hands are closer to his body than Freddie would have put them, so he grabs Willy’s right hand and moves it along the headboard until his arm is fully stretched out. 

“Is this uncomfortable for you?” he asks, and when Willy shakes his head he wraps one of his softest leather cuffs around his wrist, automatically pushing a finger between Willy’s skin and the material. “Too tight?” he asks, even though he already knows it isn’t.

Willy flexes his wrist when Freddie pulls away. “No. Feels fine. I don’t really see what the fuss is about so far.”

“You will,” Freddie replies, attaching the other end of the restraint to the bedpost. It’s not particular long, and doesn’t have a lot of give. “Try pulling on it.” Willy does, and the material stretches taut. “Good.”

He walks around the bed and gets to attaching Willy’s other wrist, leaving him somewhat spread-eagled when he’s done. 

“Try pulling on them now,” he instructs, stepping away to take in the whole picture, and Willy does. He’s only wearing a t-shirt, and Freddie gets treated to a nice, unobstructed view of the flex of his arms.

“Okay, yeah, this is different,” Willy admits, after he’s tried pulling free a couple of times.

“Still okay?” Freddie checks, and Willy smiles at him.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he reassures. “What happens now?”

Freddie crosses the room and sits down in one of the armchairs. “Nothing.” At Willy’s confused expression he elaborates. “Just stay like that, see how it feels.”

Willy still looks sceptical, but he doesn’t argue, just pulls at his restraints again. He really is very pretty like this, a couple of messy strands of hair falling across his forehead as he lowers his head and pulls again, more softly this time, like he just wants to feel the pressure. 

It is far from the first time Freddie had thought it He’d even teased Kappy about it before, how pretty his boyfriend would look all tied up, but noticing it here, with Willy actually tied to his bed, feels different. Like he’s crossing a line.

Willy stays silent, doesn’t complain or ask questions the way Freddie had half expected. After a minute or so he lets his hands drop, letting the restraints support them fully. Another minute passes before he rolls his shoulders against the awkward position. 

“Doing okay?” Freddie asks, earlier than he would have with anyone else. But this isn’t a scene, not really, this is about figuring out Willy’s comfort levels most of all, about guiding him along so he can find them. 

“Yeah,” Willy says, and his voice is quiet, but not in the way that Freddie has heard before. There’s a softness to it, something almost delicate. “I think I get it now.” 

“Do you want me to untie you?” Freddie asks, already getting up from his seat to do just that, but Willy shakes his head. 

“No, I— This is good.” His head is bowed now, and Freddie can’t see his eyes like this, but he doesn’t look tense. There’s some strain in his shoulders from the way his arms are spread, but otherwise his muscles look relaxed, no signs of distress. 

“Okay then.” Freddie sits back down. The chair creaks lightly under his weight, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room, and it makes Willy look up.

“Please don’t leave,” he says, not sounding scared exactly, but a bit timid, his eyes seeking out Freddie, and there’s an intensity to his expression that makes Freddie’s breath catch.

“No, of course not.” He wouldn’t have anyway, would never leave a sub alone and tied up in a room, especially not without talking about it first and putting some failsafes in place, but there’s something gratifying about having Willy ask him to stay, about knowing he wants Freddie here with him.

Willy drops his head again, moves his shoulders a bit and then stays still. A couple more minutes pass in total silence only occasionally interrupted by the slight creaking of the headboard when Willy lightly pulls at the restraints again. 

Freddie can’t take his eyes off him. He’s never seen anyone settle down so easily, so calmly, and he certainly hadn’t expected it from someone as jumpy as Willy. He’s sure Willy isn’t even close to being in subspace, not anywhere approaching going down, but the way his whole body seems to relax into the bonds is beautiful to watch.

After fifteen minutes Freddie gets to his feet. Willy only looks up when Freddie touches his bound wrist, unfastening the cuff.

“Why are we stopping?” he asks, and his voice is clear, strong, confirming Freddie’s suspicion that he wasn’t really under. 

“I think this is enough for now.” Willy’s hand drops to the bed, when Freddie lets go of it and reaches across him to untie his other wrist. There aren’t any marks on his skin, the soft leather not digging in anywhere, just like it was supposed to, but Freddie can’t help but let his eyes linger on the unblemished skin a bit, wishing he could see some leftover trace of what had made Willy so…still.

“Did I do something wrong?” Willy asks, and the tension is already returning to his body, before Freddie can reassure him.

“Not at all. I just think we should talk.” About his reaction to being tied up for one, and maybe about Freddie’s reaction to seeing him like that as well. “We didn’t know what to expect before, now we do. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Quite the opposite in fact, but Freddie isn’t sure Willy wants to hear that. 

The tension stays in Willy’s spine, but he nods, and his hands stay by his side instead of folding in front of his body protectively. “Alright.” He sounds apprehensive, like he still thinks he messed up somehow, and Freddie doesn’t know how to reassure him without risking overstepping some boundaries.

He’s only just now noticing how close they are with Freddie leaned over him this way, and he hastily drops Willy’s wrist that he’s still holding and takes a step back. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk in here,” he suggests. It feels too intimate all of a sudden, too suggestive to have this conversation with Willy still like this.

Willy slides off the bed instantly. He does wrap his arms around himself when he’s standing, looking small and lost and Freddie hates it, hates that he caused this. 

“Come on,” he says, and he wants to reach out and touch him, reassure him with contact when he isn’t sure which words would help, but he doesn’t know if that would be any more welcome. Instead he just goes ahead and sits down on the couch.

The position is familiar by now, but Willy had never been this closed-off, not even when he’d come here the first time, full of nervous energy and questions. 

“Okay, I need you to tell me what you’re thinking,” Freddie starts, and Willy’s fingers dig into the soft fabric of one of the couch pillows. “Because I thought that went pretty well, but you clearly don’t feel that way and I’d like to know what I can do to help you.”

Willy bites his lip, but it takes him a moment to actually speak. “You thought it went well?” he finally asks, not at all what Freddie was expecting. He thinks that over for a second.

“It seemed like you were able to relax, like you were even enjoying it,” he says carefully. “Was that not the case?”

Willy’s face does something complicated. “It was fine,” he mumbles, and Freddie can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. 

“You’re embarrassed.” It’s not a question. Things start clicking into place for Freddie. 

Willy looks away. “This was a bad idea.” Freddie would very much like to put a hand on his shoulder, maybe even against his cheek if he’d allow it, and draw his attention that way, but he has to be careful.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, Willy. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He makes an educated guess. “I’d even say you did a lot better than expected.” Willy’s eyes jump back to his face at that, and Freddie mentally congratulates himself on reading that correctly. “I didn’t expect you to be able to let go as much as you did. Most people are too nervous the first time to really lean into the feeling of being restrained.”

There’s a faint sheen of pink on Willy’s cheeks now, but his posture is much less guarded, much less like he wants to run away. “I just can’t quite figure out why you’re upset, and I’d like you to tell me, so I can help you. So I can avoid upsetting you next time.”

Willy sits up a bit straighter. “Next time?”

“If you want to, of course,” Freddie adds quickly, but Willy nods his head almost instantly. 

“But isn’t it—” Willy starts, then breaks off, looking away again and playing with the hem of his shirt. Again, Freddie wants to grab his hands and make him be still, just like he was when he was tied up. “I mean, wasn’t it kinda...boring for you?” he finally says, still not meeting Freddie’s eyes. 

“No.” If this was another situation, something less precarious, Freddie might have asked more questions first and tried to get a better read of the situation, but Willy doesn’t need that from him. “Not at all. I could have watched you like that for an hour.” It’s too much, way too honest, but Willy doesn’t seem put off, even if his eyes widen.

“Then why did you just end it?” he asks, and it’s so easy, in retrospect, to see how he might have come to this conclusion. How Freddie’s attempt to stay professional, detached and unaffected, had come across as disinterest.

“I didn’t expect you to react quite that strongly,” Freddie admits. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t really know what kind of headspace you were in and wanted to check in.” 

“Ah.” Willy doesn’t say anything more, but he looks pensive rather than distressed. He stopped fidgeting with his clothes, too.

“I’m sorry, I should have explained what I was doing.” Freddie had been too distracted by his own thoughts, too concerned with what he didn’t want Willy to see, to think about how his behavior might be interpreted by someone already feeling vulnerable. A rookie mistake, really. 

Willy just shrugs again, the movement easy and smooth now, not born out of defensiveness. “‘s cool. You were just trying to look out for me.” He even manages a small smile, and Freddie feels a familiar fondness well up inside of him. Nothing about this is going like he’d expected it.

“Are you ready to talk about what you felt like? You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but it...might help.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Willy doesn’t seem to need him to. Some of the tension returns to his body, but he makes an attempt not to fidget this time. 

“I didn’t really expect—” he starts, then pauses. “You didn’t even do anything.” He sounds confused. “I mean, you just tied up my hands and I don’t really get why…”

Freddie cuts in before he has a chance to get embarrassed again. “It takes quite a bit of trust to let yourself be restrained, most people underestimate that. Lots of people don’t manage to relax like you did, at least not the first time.”

Willy’s cheeks had lost some of the redness from before, but it’s returning now, stronger than ever. “It wasn’t really scary,” he mumbles. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want you to. Like I said, I trust you.”

Freddie doesn’t know what to say. There’s something happening in his chest, something expanding, but he can’t put a name to it, doesn’t want to. Can just do his best not to lean over and reach out to touch Willy like he wants to. “I’m glad,” is all he says in return, earning another shy, sincere smile from Willy.

They just sit there like that in silence for a moment, before Freddie breaks it. “Can you tell me what you liked about it?” It feels almost invasive to ask, like he’s requesting information he doesn’t have any right to. 

Still, he keeps going. “Was it the sensation of being restrained? Or did you like pushing, not having any give?”

Willy shifts on the couch, not uncomfortable, but restless. “It wasn’t that. Not really.” His head is bowed again, leaving Freddie to look down at his glossy head of hair, unable to see his eyes. He can still see him bite his lip again, trying to work his way through something, maybe gather his courage.

“To be honest, it was mostly the way you looked at me,” he finally says, and the admission hits Freddie like a shot to the chest, making it hard to breathe for a moment. 

“That’s not unusual,” he says, instead of the thousand other, far more incriminating things that are running through his head. “Lots of people like being...observed.”

The word choice make Willy blush even more, but he soldiers on. “It’s not just that, it’s— It was the thought that you were— You know, kinda into it.” 

There are many ways in which Freddie could react to this. Soft, gentle praise about how beautiful he’d looked, tied to Freddie’s bed, so submissive and still, being good for his dom, for Freddie. How much Freddie had wanted to touch him, just to feel him breathe steadily. 

There’s also a much more explicit version that Freddie hasn’t quite let himself think about, how he’d wondered if Willy would manage to stay that still and silent if Freddie were to touch him with intent, run his hands over his chest, maybe play with his nipples, and if he’d managed to stay still through that he’d move on down to his cock.

None of that is even remotely appropriate, even if Freddie is becoming more and more convinced Willy might like to hear it. _He has a boyfriend_, he reminds himself sternly. _A boyfriend who he loves. Who is the whole reason he’s doing this to begin with._

Somehow, that gives Freddie the mental fortitude to wrench himself away from that kind of thinking, to get back on track. 

“Wanting to...please your partner isn’t unusual at all. Even if it’s not sexual.” The last part is something he would do well to remember. Something he needs to remember right now. “It’s something that will probably help you a lot when you try to dom Kappy.”

Something flickers across Willy’s face, but it’s gone so fast Freddie doesn’t have a chance to identify it. “Right,” he says, drawing the word out. “I’m kinda starting to think I’m not super suited for the job.”

Freddie doesn’t know how to respond to that. “I wouldn’t say that,” he eventually settles on. “Yes, you adapted easily to a more...submissive role today.” There’s no reason to talk around it. No matter how much Freddie is trying to convince himself to not think of this as a scene, the way Willy had just let go and trusted him had been pretty hard to interpret any other way. 

“But back in the locker room it was just as natural for you to give Kappy instructions,” he continues. “Not everyone falls into a role the way Kappy and I do. You don’t need to behave with me the way you would with Kappy.” He’s not sure if Willy has ever heard the term ‘switch’, has ever done enough research to come across it. He hasn’t shown any particular inclination to use proper BDSM terminology before so Freddie had mostly steered clear of that, but it’s nice to have a fitting word in case he needs it. 

Willy seems to think that over for a second. “I guess you’re right,” he finally agrees. “I just— I have no clue what I’m supposed to do for Kappy. It’s so easy with you, I don’t have to worry about anything, I just have to be.”

Freddie has to swallow down his first instinctual response to that. And his second. “Does this mean you didn’t like giving Kappy orders?” he asks, changing the subject just enough to banish the temptation of offering Willy all the ways in which they could explore his sub tendencies. 

“No, that was good. That wasn’t a problem, he’s pretty easy to read.”

“He’s easy to read for you,” Freddie disagrees. “Because you’re familiar with him. Because you know him so well. All you need is a bit of practice. And as long as the situation itself doesn’t make you uncomfortable, practice is something you can easily get.”

Willy smiles at him again at that. “I think I get it a bit better now. What he gets out of it, I mean. Giving up control and not having to think for a while is really...nice.” 

Freddie doesn’t know what to say to that. That he can’t relate maybe, or that he’s happy to take away Willy’s control any time he wants to rest for a while. “Seems like this was a good idea after all then. If it’s helping you understand, I mean.”

Willy nods, looking a bit lost in thought. “You know, I think I want to do more next time. I mean, being tied up was good, and way more intense than I thought it would be, but there’s more we can do, right?” he continues, completely oblivious to the mess he’s causing inside of Freddie.

“There’s more we can do,” Freddie agrees. “If you want to explore more. Just in terms of restraints, we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Willy grins at that. “Yeah, I know. I’ve seen your collection, remember?” 

The selection he showed Willy had purposefully excluded most of the more intimidating or suggestive restraints, but Freddie’s mind immediately jumps to a picture of Willy on his bed, rope wrapped around his chest in an intricate pattern, his arms tied together so he can barely move and a spreader bar between his legs. He pushes it down forcefully. 

“If you want to, I could show you some knots next time.” It might help Freddie get more into a teaching mindset, to avoid drifting off into dangerous territory quite so much when he actually has to explain things, when Willy has his own hands free to practice. 

Willy’s eyes light up at the suggestion. “Oh yeah, I’ll be looking forward to that.”

Freddie lets out a slow, meditative breath, trying to rein in his thoughts. Yeah, he’s looking forward to it as well, even though he knows he maybe shouldn’t be.

————— 

“I’ve been thinking,” Freddie opens when they’re once again sitting on the couch in his living room. He’s going to have to find a new place for this soon or he’ll never be able to hang out here without having inappropriate thoughts about Willy. “Maybe we should talk about boundaries again before we start.”

He’d been going back and forth over the last couple of days on whether or not he should come clean, should tell Willy about his interest in him, assure him that he can still keep it professional, and let Willy decide for himself how he wants to move forward. 

It’s a lot more difficult with Willy sitting in front of him, looking curious and a bit taken aback even at this slight possible rejection, the warm light of Freddie’s ceiling lights casting shadows across his pretty face.

“I thought last time went pretty well.” He sounds confused, obviously trying not to let his apprehension bleed through. 

“It did,” Freddie reassures him. “But we both reacted quite a bit stronger than expected and I’d like to put some contingencies in place, just in case.”

Willy mulls that over for a moment. “Sounds good,” he agrees. “What were you thinking? Safewords? Or something else?” 

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. If you want me to stop for any reason you can just say so. I mostly just wanted to know if there’s anything you’d like to try. Or anything you’re not comfortable with.” Freddie had briefly toyed with the idea of bringing a check-list, but had discarded it on the grounds that it might make Willy uncomfortable.

Willy’s back to biting his lip in a way that makes him look vulnerable and unintentionally provocative. Freddie would love to tell him to cut it out, would love to make him cut it out, but that’s not his place. 

“I don’t like being hurt,” Willy starts. “You already know that but that hasn’t changed, and I don’t want to experiment with it either.”

Freddie nods. Hard limits are good, a good starting point. “But you like being restrained,” he prompts, and Willy nods. “How do you feel about discomfort? Not pain, just, something that’s challenging. Staying in an uncomfortable position for a while, that sort of thing.”

Willy waits a moment before answering, thinking it over, which makes Freddie breathe a bit easier. It’s not that he’d expected Willy to be completely agreeable, but the chance that he wouldn’t fully consider his own feelings because he’d want to please Freddie wasn’t completely off the table.

“I think it’s fine if you’re there,” he finally settles on, and Freddie’s breath stutters for a different reason than before.

“I won’t leave you,” he reassures, probably a bit too eager, but it gets him a smile in return.

“Then I think it’d be fine. I think I— like being pushed a bit, to be honest,” he admits, his cheeks coloring, and Freddie wants to reach out and touch him. He should tell him, should confess and let Willy make an informed choice about what he’s getting himself into.

“How do you feel about sensory deprivation?” he asks instead, just so he can watch Willy’s eyes widen, startled.

“Like, blindfolds?” 

Freddie nods. “Among other things. But yes, for now I was thinking of putting a blindfold on you. Would you be alright with that?” Freddie tries not to sound too intent, too greedy, but he’s not sure how well he’s succeeding.

“I—” Willy breaks off to swallow, and Freddie has to force himself not to let his eyes drop to his throat. “Maybe. I don’t know—” He breaks off again, and Freddie decides to back off a bit.

“Not in combination with anything else. That would be too much, but just think about it, and maybe we can try it some other time.”

“No, it’s not that!” Willy cuts in hastily. “I, uhm—” His entire face is red now and he’s having trouble meeting Freddie’s eyes. It would be incredibly enticing if they didn’t have a conversation to finish. “I kinda always thought of blindfolds as something, uh, sexual.”

Freddie blinks. Tries not to linger on the implications of that. Fails.

Still, it’s probably the best segue he’s going to get. “It can be, but it doesn’t have to be,” he starts, steeling himself. “In fact, that’s probably something we should talk about.” Willy perks up at that, his back straightening 

“None of the things we do here are inherently sexual, but the association is often quite strong. It’s not uncommon for people to...react to some of the things we’ll be doing together. Lots of adrenaline, endorphins, tension, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Willy doesn’t look particularly relieved. “Okay, but—” he starts, then snaps his mouth shut abruptly. Freddie raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I was just curious about something. But it’s none of my business.” He fidgets, and Freddie waits him out.

“Is it ever, for you?” Willy asks. “I mean, you know, something sexual? I know you and Kappy don’t, but…” It’s the perfect opening. Freddie isn’t going to get a better chance than this.

“I find the feeling of being in control of someone else, being able to cause reactions and watch them...very gratifying,” he starts. It’s a good start, all he needs to do is make it more specific. “Also in a sexual way, but it’s...not always something I feel the need to act on.” He can’t do it. “You don’t have to worry about me and Kappy,” he says instead.

Willy’s forehead creases. “I know. I don’t.” Something seems to occur to him. “Wait, you know I wouldn’t mind, right? If you sleep with him, I mean.” It’s so completely unlike what Freddie had expected him to say that it throws him off track completely. 

“You don’t?” he repeats, and Willy shakes his head. Smiles, completely at ease.

“No, of course not. I just want him to get what he wants, even when I can’t give it to him. As long as he spends the night in my bed, as long as he doesn’t lie to me about it, I don’t really care about what else he does. You really didn’t know?” He sounds disbelieving, a bit like Freddie feels right now, except for a completely different reason.

“It never came up,” Freddie says weakly. Not even after the locker room scene, after Freddie had touched Kappy in a decidedly sexual manner, had pushed his fingers inside of him, had watched him come, and had been unable to wipe that image from his mind ever since. 

“Huh,” Willy says, and that’s really all there is to that. Freddie shouldn’t dwell on it, should get back on topic. 

“This isn’t about me and Kappy though. This is about you and me.” 

“Right,” Willy agrees, sitting up straighter again. “About you blindfolding me, to be specific.” There’s absolutely none of his earlier nervousness in his voice. Freddie would appreciate that more if he didn’t feel so off-balance himself.

“That’s an option. But like I said before, you can think about it for a bit,” he offers, but Willy shakes his head.

“I don’t need to, I’m fine with it.” 

“If you’d rather do something else first…”

“No, blindfold sounds good. I wanna try it.” Freddie isn’t sure where the sudden eagerness comes from, but he doesn’t want to second-guess Willy, doesn’t want to make his decisions for him. Not outside of a scene anyway. “Unless you don’t want to…” He lets the question trail off, like there’s even the slightest chance Freddie would try to dissuade him.

“This is about what you want,” he hedges, then gives up. “But I don’t exactly mind.” Willy beams at him, so bright that Freddie can’t help a small smile of his own. “There’s one more thing, though,” he adds, when Willy looks just about ready to head over to the playroom.

“I don’t want things to end up like last time. If there’s anything that upsets you, I want you to let me know. No matter what it is.” Willy’s cheeks are starting to flush again, but he doesn’t avoid Freddie’s gaze. 

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees. Again, Freddie has to suppress the urge to reach out and physically reassure him.

Instead he pushes himself to his feet and asks, “Ready to go?”

This time he hadn’t bothered laying out anything beforehand and so the room looks pristine and empty when he enters it. 

“Where do you want me?” Willy asks, already inching over to the bed, and Freddie doesn’t see a reason to stop him.

“Same as last time should work.” He turns to his dresser to get a blindfold, and so he doesn’t have to watch Willy make himself comfortable. He hovers for a moment, indecisive, before he picks a soft, dark blue piece of fabric, and if the reason for that is mostly that it’s going to look lovely with Willy’s complexion, then there’s no harm in that.

Willy looks positively cozy among the fluffy pillows, much more relaxed than he had been last time he’d been in that position. “So, I’ll just let you blindfold me, and that’s it? Nothing else?”

“Nothing else,” Freddie confirms, stepping closer. “Are you ready?” Willy nods, looking up at Freddie, open and trusting.

The strands of hair that brush against Freddie’s hand when he reaches out to fasten the blindfold are soft, and he can hear Willy’s shaky exhale when Freddie first pulls the fabric taut. “Is it alright like this?” he asks. “Not too tight?” 

Willy doesn’t answer, but close like this Freddie can feel the minute twitch of his head, so he fastens the knot and backs off. The temptation to brush against Willy, to run a hand through his hair or touch his face is strong, but it would be an even worse imposition now, with Willy unable to see him, than it had been before.

“Doing okay?” he asks, just to make sure, and this time Willy gives a shaky nod.

“Yeah, just, can you—” He takes a breath, sounding a bit unsteady. “Can you stay close?” Freddie has to tuck his hands into his pockets, he wants to touch him so much. 

“Yeah, of course. Hold on a second.” He goes to turn down the lights, casting the room in a sort of twilight. Then he sits down, and Willy turns to him, unseeing, feeling the bed dip underneath Freddie’s weight. Freddie’s not touching him, but he’s close enough that he could reach out and do so. Close enough to hear Willy breathe, to see his chest move with it, more pronounced than usual. His hands are clenched in the pillows on either side of him, but they relax as Freddie watches. 

A minute passes, then another. Willy takes a deep breath. “Freddie?” his voice doesn’t sound timid, but small, just like it had the last time, when Freddie had tied him to the bed. 

“Yeah?” Willy’s face turns towards his voice, even though Freddie knows he can’t possibly see him. 

“Could you...touch me?” The blush on his cheeks looks even more lovely than usual, standing out starkly against the dark fabric of the blindfold. 

“Of course.” Freddie reaches out and takes his hand, resists the urge to close his fingers around Willy’s wrist so he can feel the beat of his pulse, has to wonder instead if it has slowed down to a crawl as Willy relaxes, or if it’s rabbit-fast as his body tries to compensate for the lack of sight with a burst of adrenaline.

Willy’s fingers tangle with his own, and it should feel childish or silly, but it doesn’t, not at all. “Still doing okay?” Freddie asks, his own voice quiet. It feels appropriate somehow. 

“Yeah, good,” Willy says after a moment. “It’s really...calm.” That’s not a word Freddie would usually associate with a scene, but it fits nonetheless. It’s peaceful, sitting here like this with Willy, so different from the tension that usually accompanies anything involving this kind of trust. 

“It is,” Freddie agrees, then adds, “It’s nice,” just to see Willy smile. It might be nice to close his eyes as well, to just rest with him, but that would mean missing the serene expression settle over Willy’s features, the way his whole body seems to melt into the sheets.

It’s exactly the kind of thing Freddie usually doesn’t get out of scenes. This peaceful kind of intimacy is usually reserved for afterwards, and Freddie hasn’t been a part of that in a while. 

Freddie still wants to touch him, but he wants to run his hands over Willy’s body just to press into the warmth of another person, just to feel his heart. The intensity of the desire makes his chest contract painfully. 

Somehow, this might be worse than just wanting to fuck him. This is crossing more boundaries, feels more exploitative. Freddie should put a stop to it. 

He doesn’t move, just steadies his own breathing. 

He can have this. They can talk about it afterwards, he can tell Willy how this is affecting him, can apologize, and then they won’t do anything like this again. Willy won’t let him tie him up again afterwards, certainly won’t let Freddie do anything else, but they’ll still be teammates, maybe even friends if he’s not too freaked out.

Freddie can keep up his scenes with Kappy. He can be careful, can avoid overstepping any lines. It’s so much easier with Kappy, all he wants Freddie to do is hurt him. He doesn’t ask Freddie to care, either explicitly or implicitly.

Willy shifts, drawing Freddie’s attention back to him. Or maybe that’s not accurate, Freddie has never stopped paying attention to him, has never taken his eyes off him. It’s more accurate to say that his thoughts turn back to Willy. 

He still looks relaxed, his body loose and pliant, but even while Freddie’s thinking it, he moves again, like he’s trying to get comfortable. “Everything okay?” Freddie asks, stopping himself from reaching out, touching his shoulder and stilling him. He’s already crossing far too many lines, there’s no need to add even more to the tally.

“Fine,” Willy says, but there’s subtle tension in his body now, the line of his shoulders not quite as sloped as it had been just moments before.

“Tell me what you need,” Freddie says, and the soft pink blooming underneath the blindfold is just as mesmerizing as it had been before.

“Isn’t this kinda boring for you?” Willy asks. “I mean, I’m just...sitting here.” And maybe if they knew each other better, if Freddie had had more of a firm idea in his mind of what he looks like blindfolded and still and calm before, maybe it would be boring then. 

Like this, Freddie would love nothing more to keep him like this, to wait and find out how long it would take him to start getting restless, how long he’d still try to keep himself still anyway, just to please Freddie.

It would be too much to tell him the truth, but that doesn’t mean he has to lie. “No, I like it. I don’t usually get to see you so relaxed.” 

The corners of Willy’s mouth tilt upwards, and it’s strange to see him smiling without being able to see his eyes. Not bad, but strange. “Okay, yeah, I kinda get that, I think,” he says, his voice sounding soft and affectionate and—

He’s thinking of Kappy. That’s why the expression is familiar, because Freddie has seen him smile at Kappy that way dozens of times, out on the ice or in the locker room, and most of the times when he comes to pick Kappy up after a scene. And why wouldn’t he be thinking of Kappy? He’s the reason he’s in this situation after all, he’s the one Willy would enjoy seeing quiet and happy, who Willy probably sees like this on a regular basis.

“I didn’t know you liked that part as well,” Willy continues, pulling Freddie out of his thoughts. “I kinda figured you didn’t since you usually send Kappy back to me to do all the caretaking.”

It’s not meant as an accusation, Freddie knows it isn’t. Still, it feels like a punch to the chest, and for a second it’s hard to speak. “I figured he preferred it that way.” Freddie’s voice doesn’t shake, doesn’t go weak or frail, but the words still hurt his throat.

Freddie is suddenly incredibly glad they’ve ended up having this conversation while Willy is blindfolded, while he can’t see Freddie’s expressions, because the way Willy’s mouth tilts downwards into a frown leaves his stomach feeling queasy.

“I don’t think that’s true. Did you ever ask him?”

_I didn’t have to_, Freddie thinks, but hesitates. “No,” he settles on. 

Willy’s forehead creases, disrupting the smooth line of the blindfold across his face. “Why not? You’re the one who keeps telling me we need to talk about stuff, make sure we’re on the same page about everything before we start. Don’t you do that with Kappy?” It’s almost funny how close to right he is, and yet still misses the point completely.

“Kappy and I have been doing this a bit longer than you. We know how to set boundaries. You don’t, which is why I’m being more careful with you.” Which is why Freddie’s continued inability to stay on task is a much more severe breach of trust. 

Willy looks like he wants to say something else, but Freddie cuts him off. “Looks like this isn’t quite working for you anymore. How about I take off the blindfold?”

Willy’s mouth closes, his hand letting go of Freddie’s and Freddie had almost forgotten they were still holding hands, had grown accustomed to the warm weight against his palm so quickly. 

“I— Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin this.” He sounds small and unhappy, exactly what Freddie had been trying to avoid. He doesn’t know why he keeps fucking this up, why he apparently can’t end even one scene with Willy without making him feel like shit. 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he assures, even though it’s probably too late to salvage anything. “But you’re not enjoying this anymore, so I think we should stop for today.” 

That seems to mollify Willy a little, because he nods in agreement. “Yeah, alright. I guess I’m not really— I mean, it’s still kinda cool, not being able to see and just having to trust you like this? But it’s not scary or anything. It’s not like it’s a big deal.” Despite the casual tone, the words sink into Freddie’s gut like molten rock, spreading heat through his whole body.

He has to swallow before he can speak, can make his voice sound level. “I wouldn’t say that.” He wants to say more, something about how having Willy’s trust makes him feel, how he’s done absolutely nothing to earn it, but he doesn’t. 

Instead he just reaches out for the knot of the blindfold. His fingers are gentle, making sure not to tug on Willy’s hair as he quickly untangles the fabric. He can’t quite stop himself from brushing along Willy’s cheek as he pulls away, just a short moment of his skin touching Willy’s.

Willy blinks and looks up at Freddie. His pupils are huge, dilated to the point where they’re more black than blue, and even though Freddie knows it’s because of the blindfold, because of the dimness of the room around them that Willy is still trying to adjust to, it’s hard to focus on what he knows, hard not to read it as desire, as Willy wanting him. His lips are slightly parted as he tries to adjust to his surroundings, his hair is a mess, and Freddie just wants to bury his hands in it and kiss him. 

The bed moves as he gets up abruptly, and Willy actually puts out an arm to steady himself. He looks confused now, and Freddie wants to apologize. He doesn’t. “I’m just gonna put this away,” he says, using the hand still holding the blindfold to gesture at his dresser, and it feels stilted, clumsy.

He turns away so he doesn’t have to see Willy’s reaction. “Then we can talk. In the living room.” 

He hears a movement behind him, rustling of sheets moving, and the dull thud of feet hitting the floor. “Is there a reason we never do the debrief in here?” Willy asks. “I mean, seems more comfortable. There’s a bed and everything.”

“You saying my couch isn’t comfortable?” Freddie retorts, just so he doesn’t have to answer the question. 

Willy doesn’t let him get away with it. “I was just thinking this is cozier, we have mood lighting and everything in here.” He grins up at Freddie, his legs still dangling off the edge of the bed but making no other move to get up, and Freddie wants to push him back, press him down and bite at his lips until they’re so red and tender he won’t be able to think about anything else for days.

“Having separate spaces for different aspects of a scene helps me focus,” he finally relents, and it’s not a lie, not at all, but it’s by far not the main reason he needs to get Willy out of this room.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Willy agrees easily, and finally stands up so Freddie can usher him out of the room, putting a solid wooden door between them and the temptation of dim light and soft sheets. 

Willy doesn’t hesitate to sprawl on the couch, making himself perfectly at home, and Freddie would be glad about that if sitting down next to him wouldn’t put him right in touching distance. He could technically sit at the very edge and put some space between them, but that would be obvious and probably give Willy the wrong impression. Sitting on the armchair instead of joining Willy would be even worse.

Freddie sinks down, taking extra care to keep his posture relaxed, to not react either way when his knee knocks against Willy’s.

“So, that went pretty well, right?” Willy asks, sounding hopeful. “I mean, I liked it, and I think next time I’d be up for trying other stuff. Like, you know, wearing a blindfold when you tie me up or maybe the electricity thing.”

It takes a whole five seconds before Freddie succeeds in pushing the resulting images from his mind. Idly wondering about it before had been bad enough, but having Willy actually suggest it…

“I think the electrostim might be a bit much for now. We still don’t know if you like even relatively mild pain in a scene.” It sounds so reasonable like this, like he isn’t eager to try it, like he wouldn’t agree to whatever Willy wanted if he could be more sure of his own reactions, his own ability to stay in control. 

“Yeah, true.” Willy doesn’t seem bothered. “I mean, we got time. How about the other stuff though?” 

Freddie takes a breath, slow, but shallow, nothing that would be noticeable on the outside. “I think that’s a reasonable goal for next time.” If he can prepare himself for it, he can probably manage not to do anything he’d regret, anything they’d both regret. And maybe then there’ll be another next time.

Either way, it’s worth the way Willy smiles at him, bright and happy. “Great,” he exclaims, sitting up straighter. “So is there anything else we’re doing today? I mean, like, aftercare, or whatever? We had kinda a weird moment there and I feel like we shouldn’t just leave it like this?”

Despite Willy’s relative lack of knowledge about all things BDSM, he’s got good instincts. It’ll probably help him a lot when he starts sceneing with Kappy, but for now it’s not exactly making Freddie’s life any easier.

“That’s not necessary,” Freddie says, more brusque than he’d meant to and he deliberately softens his voice when Willy looks a bit startled. “Unless of course there’s anything you need from me?”

“Actually I was wondering if there’s anything you need from me,” Willy returns, proving himself surprisingly intuitive once more. “I mean, I don’t— I know it’s not as intense for you as it is for me.” It’s a reasonable assumption to make from his perspective, especially since Freddie’s taking care not to let any of his reactions show. “But, if there’s anything…”

He trails off, looking at Freddie with big, earnest eyes, and for a moment Freddie considers telling him, considers sharing how much seeing Willy make himself vulnerable for him affects him, how he can’t help but think about things they haven’t discussed, that he doesn’t have any right to. 

It would be a good moment for it, would explain his weird behavior in the scene, as well as setting up an important discussion they should have before they even think about the next one.

“I’m fine. I just want this to be a good experience for you,” Freddie says instead. 

For some reason that sends color to Willy’s cheeks again, and combined with the still-slouched posture it doesn’t look at all like embarrassment. “It is,” he says, more earnestly than Freddie feels the situation warrants. “I’m really— thanks, Freddie, for doing this with me, I mean.”

The words fill Freddie’s chest with warmth but also make his something inside his stomach tighten uncomfortably. “Of course,” he says. “I feel very honored that you asked me to help you with this.” He hadn’t meant for that to come out quite so earnest. “Kappy is a lucky guy,” he adds, because it feels like a very necessary reminder to himself. 

It doesn’t ruin the moment, doesn’t take away the strange softness of it. Willy just smiles at him, smaller than before, but just as genuine. “Yeah, he is.”

————— 

Their schedule gets busy. They have a couple of back-to-backs, and practice whenever they don’t. The Leafs sit comfortably in a playoff spot with a good cushion, but it’s only January, and they have a tendency to get sloppy, so no one can really relax. 

Freddie still meets up regularly with Kappy, but it takes a while before Freddie and Willy both have a free evening. Kappy never asks Freddie about Willy, never shows any interest in learning about what they do together, and Freddie doesn’t really know if it’s because he genuinely doesn’t care, doesn’t think it’s any of his business, or because it’s a very deliberate move to keep potential jealousy at bay. 

Just in case it might be the latter, Freddie doesn’t bring it up either, but the question lingers on his mind. It’s not made any easier by the fact that Freddie has a harder and harder time keeping his scenes with Kappy purely platonic. Where it only used to happen a couple of times before, Kappy now gets visibly aroused during every scene, his cock hard in his shorts, or lying against his stomach whenever they do something that requires him to be fully naked.

Freddie doesn’t know if the scene in the locker room created a connection between the pain and sex in his mind, or if it’s something else, but it’s...distracting. 

Bad enough that Freddie is silently lusting after his boyfriend, the desire to touch Kappy, to run his hands over his thighs and play with his cock while he’s tied up and following Freddie’s commands to the best of his ability might be even worse. Willy’s hesitant submission is beautiful to watch and very gratifying in its own way, but Kappy is really and truly at Freddie’s mercy. 

Crossing a line here would be unforgivable, and the thought alone makes Freddie feel vaguely sick.

If Kappy notices a change in his behavior, he doesn’t comment on it, but Freddie does his best to come up with scenes that allow Kappy to keep more of his clothing, that rely on Kappy holding still by himself rather than having him restrained and helpless. 

It takes Kappy longer to go down like that, leaves him more coherent and probably not quite as satisfied, but it has to be enough. 

When the date of the next session with Willy finally rolls around, Freddie has a plan. He’s going to come clean, tell Willy about his concerns and let him make an informed decision on whether or not he still wants this with Freddie. If he reacts badly, Freddie will bring it up with Kappy before their next scene. If Willy doesn’t mind, they can just go on as before, and Freddie will do his best not to make him uncomfortable in any way.

He also meticulously plans out the scene, visualizes it in his mind until it feels almost real, in the hope that the genuine thing won’t affect him quite as much.

On the evening Willy is coming over he sets aside some time beforehand to meditate longer than he usually does, and when there’s finally a knock on his door he feels calm and in control. Seeing Willy in a tightly fitted sweater and his hair tousled from the wind outside doesn’t make him feel anything, besides a small desire to run his hand over his head and mess it up even more, but there’s nothing wrong with that.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” Willy admits easily, eagerly, and that’s more difficult to brush off but Freddie has a plan. 

“I wanted to talk about something first,” Freddie says, voice level, and Willy’s eyes instantly lose some of their shine.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, and maybe Freddie shouldn’t have focused quite so much on being calm and spent some energy on being reassuring.

“No, I just think we should talk about our boundaries a bit more before we start. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Freddie emphasises, but it doesn’t really help loosen the stiff line of Willy’s back as he sits down on the couch, keeping to one end this time instead of sprawling out. “Do you remember when you asked me if scenes ever felt sexual for me?” 

Willy sits up straighter at that, some of his nerves giving way to attentiveness. “Yes, I remember. You said it’s not something you act on.” Those hadn’t been Freddie’s exact words, and it isn’t entirely accurate either, but it’s close enough that he just nods.

“Right, and that hasn’t changed,” he assures quickly. “But I’ve been thinking recently that this is something we should still...talk about.” Willy nods, to show he’s following along, but his body has turned in on itself a bit, guarded, and he doesn’t say anything.

“I feel like I might have given you the wrong impression,” Freddie continues. “Scenes can have a lot different purposes and sex is only one of them, but it is the most common association, and...I’m not as exempt from that as I’d like to be.” 

It’s still difficult to find the right words, even when he knows exactly what he wants to, has to say. “When you let me tie you up or blindfold you, when you make yourself vulnerable for me and submit, that’s...very appealing to me.” 

Freddie pauses, giving Willy a chance to react. There’s a faint, by now familiar dusting of pink on Willy’s cheeks, and his eyes are wide and attentive, but he doesn’t say anything, so Freddie continues. “I want you to know that I’m not going to do anything about it, you won’t have to worry about that, but you should still know. I completely understand if you’re not comfortable continuing this under the circumstances.”

“No, that’s— It’s fine,” Willy says hastily, and he’s fully blushing now, his whole face warm with it. “I just—” He bites his lip, and it’s just as enticing as it had been every time before, but this time Freddie is ready for it, isn’t quite as distracted. “You, uhm, when you look at me when I’m all—” he makes a vague gesture that might encapsulate being tied up, blindfolded, or some variation thereof “— it, uh, works for you?” 

Freddie almost laughs at the vagueness of that statement. “Yeah, it works for me,” he confirms, and his voice is a bit too low, a bit too husky to be appropriate. Or maybe it’s perfectly appropriate, given the topic at hand. 

“Is it just— I mean, is it the same with Kappy?” Willy asks, and before Freddie can even attempt to answer, his eyes widen. “Not that you— Obviously you don’t have to tell me—”

Freddie decides to put him out of his misery. “It’s not just you. I feel this way about most of my scene partners. Including Kappy.” It’s not quite as truthful as what he’d said before, even if it’s not a lie. It’s just that there are degrees to which he finds his scene partners attractive, to the things he wants to do to them, the ways in which he wants to touch them, and the intensity of his attraction.

There’s no reason for Willy to know that both he and Kappy fall on the higher end of the spectrum.

“Oh,” is all Willy says. “Well, that’s— that’s alright.” He sounds a bit dazed, but not like it might not be alright, just like he needs a moment to think it over.

“If you find at any point that it isn’t, I need you to tell me. We can find an alternative or call this off entirely if you’re ever uncomfortable,” Freddie says, his voice serious.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Willy says immediately. “I actually— I don’t mind.” He doesn’t elaborate on that, but the renewed flush on his face suggests that Freddie isn’t misinterpreting this. 

It’s not surprising if he thinks about it. He just very deliberately hadn’t let himself think about it before. Willy had already told him that he likes being watched, likes pleasing his partners, likes being...enjoyed. It’s only logical that this might also extend to someone admiring him in a more...carnal manner. 

It still makes Freddie’s heart beat faster, makes him think of the new possibilities this brings with it, and he has to fervently push down on those thoughts. This isn’t the time, it might never be the time, and there’s no use dwelling on a potential future when there is a present to be enjoyed.

“Do you need a minute before I tell about our plans for today?” Freddie asks, finally changing the subject, and Willy perks up at that.

“I’m good. What’s the plan?” He’s back to sounding eager, like he had when he’d first walked in the door and something inside Freddie eases at that.

“I was thinking we could use the blindfold again. You mentioned that you’d like to use it in combination with something else. Unless…”

“No, blindfold sounds good,” Willy cuts in quickly. “What’s the other thing?”

“Well, you seemed to like the restraints, so I was thinking of doing something a bit more advanced. How would you feel about having your arms tied with rope? Think about it for a moment,” Freddie adds, when Willy rushes to answer again, and his mouth falls shut. 

“How would that be different from last time?” Willy finally asks, and Freddie smiles in approval. 

“The texture will be different. The restraints I put you in were soft on your wrists, you could barely feel them unless you were pulling on them, correct?” Willy nods, and the fingers of his left hand automatically close around his right wrist, trying to recreate the sensation without conscious thought. Freddie has to force himself not to stare at his hands, to ignore the heat spreading in his stomach at the gesture.

“I’m also not going to tie you to anything, I’ll just bind your arms together in front of your body. The position will feel a bit different, less exposed, but you’ll still feel restrained. How does that sound?” 

Freddie can see the way Willy’s chest moves when he takes a deep breath. “Sounds good.” His grip on his wrist tightens and Freddie wants to reach out and grab his other wrist, but the impulse isn’t as strong this time when he knows he’ll get to do something much better in just a couple of minutes.

“Is there anything else you need before we start?” Freddie asks, trying not to let his own eagerness bleed through. It feels a bit ridiculous, how excited he is by such a simple thing when he has Kappy in much more complex, more submissive positions almost every week. It feels different with Willy though, maybe because Freddie is more aware of exactly how much it’s costing him to try something new like this.

“I’m good,” Willy assures and then gets up as if to prove the point. Freddie doesn’t see any reason not to take his word for it. 

“Where do you want me to...sit?” Willy asks when they enter Freddie’s playroom, and it’s a fair question. He doesn’t technically need to be on the bed this time and there are a couple of comfortable armchairs in the room as well, but it’s also a more involved process this time so Freddie has to consider his own comfort as well. 

“The bed is probably easiest. This might take a while.” Willy doesn’t question him, just sits down against the headboard and gets comfortable. It’s a familiar sight by now, Willy lounging on the bed, looking up at Freddie expectantly, and Freddie feels like he should be immune to it by now. 

“I’m going to tie your arms in front of your body. I’ll wrap the rope all along your forearms, so if you want to feel it properly you should take off your sweater. It’s up to you though.” Normally it wouldn’t be, normally Freddie wouldn’t be fine with giving a sub with a mediocre experience, but Willy is a special case. Still, it feels good to hear the rustling of clothing behind him as he gets his equipment out. 

He turns back around to find Willy completely shirtless, bare chest on display just for him. His mouth feels dry. He’d sort of assumed Willy would be wearing something underneath, hadn’t really prepared himself for all that naked skin and it’s not exactly putting Freddie in the right mindset. 

Willy shifts when he notices Freddie’s gaze. “It’s not that cold today,” he defends himself, easily following Freddie’s thought process. “This isn’t a problem, is it?”

“No, of course not.” It’s not going to be, Freddie will make sure of it. “Not if you’re comfortable. It’d be perfectly understandable if you wouldn’t be, given...what we discussed earlier.”

To his surprise, Willy smiles at that. “I told you, I don’t mind.” And that’s really all there is to say about it. He eyes the equipment curiously when Freddie sits down next to him. “What are the scissors for?”

“Just in case I need to get you out quickly,” Freddie says, putting the safety scissors on the nightstand. The probability of Willy freaking out is relatively low given how comfortable he’d been the last two times, with how much he seems to trust Freddie, but it’s still not zero. 

Freddie puts the rope down on the mattress between them, then holds up the blindfold. “Are you ready? You can stop this any time, just say the word.”

Willy smiles at him again. “Yeah, I know. I’m ready.”

It’s the same blindfold they’d used last time, and Freddie doesn’t dwell on why he made that choice, if he wants to recreate the experience as closely as possible to avoid new and distracting sensations for Willy, or if he’d just liked the way it had looked and didn’t want to change a winning formula. 

Willy’s hair is soft under his fingers and smells faintly of sandalwood when Freddie leans in. His body is practically radiating heat, especially noticeable with his shirt off, and Freddie wonders if he should have adjusted the temperature in the room. It seems too late to ask now. 

Just like last time, there’s a quick inhale of breath when the fabric first pulls taut, bathing Willy’s world in darkness. This time, Freddie doesn’t bother asking if he’s okay, just trusts that Willy will say something if he’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t show any signs of distress, his breaths deep and even, probably a conscious choice.

“Hold your arms out in front of you. Put your hands together,” Freddie instructs, not wanting to linger on the picture Willy makes, blindfolded on his bed, again. He hesitates for a second, but then sits down next to him. They’re still close like this, closer than they had been the last time, but it’s necessary. Freddie has work to do. 

Willy jerks when Freddie touches his hands. “Sorry, just— surprised me.” He sounds apologetic even though there’s no reason for it, but doesn’t pull away, so Freddie doesn’t comment. He starts by looping one end of the rope around Willy’s wrists and tying them together with little flourish, just a regular, neat knot.

“Is this too tight?” he asks, and Willy responds by trying to pull his wrists apart. They barely budge, even though the muscles of his arms strain with the effort. 

“Feels good,” he says and his voice is a bit thin, his breath coming out a bit faster, and it’s a stronger reaction that Freddie would have expected. The knot is easy to release, just in case Willy ends up not being comfortable with it after all, but Freddie still feels like he has to tread carefully.

“Are you ready for me to keep going?” he asks, just to be sure, and moves on when Willy nods his assent. He threads the rope up along Willy’s arms, crisscrossing it a couple times to tie them together, and pulling it tight. “Let me know if you’re fingers start to tingle, I don’t want you losing circulation anywhere,” he instructs. 

He keeps going like this for a while, wrapping more and more rope around Willy’s arms up to his elbows, sometimes in between, creating intricate patterns only he can see. In the beginning Willy had fidgeted when Freddie’s fingers had brushed against his skin, but he quiets down after the first minute or so. 

Finally Freddie ties the whole thing up with one last knot and sits back to admire his work. The dark rope looks good against Willy’s skin, the pattern standing out stark in contrast, emphasised even more by the amount of skin on display. 

Even without the blindfold, it would be a sight to behold. With the blindfold, with the quiet, subtle tension of Willy’s muscles as he’s still holding out his arms in front of him, it’s magnificent. Freddie would love nothing more than to take a picture, to preserve this moment somehow, but he could hardly commit a stronger breach of trust. 

Even if he could, if he had permission, a picture wouldn’t do the situation justice, wouldn’t be able to capture the sound of Willy’s quiet breaths in the empty room, the movement of his chest on every inhale and exhale, the subtle shifts of his body against the cushions now and then. It feels stolen, seeing him like this, but Freddie had laid all his cards out in the open, so he tries not to feel bad about it.

“I’m done,” he says, and just like he had expected Willy flexes his arms, tries to pull them apart, but nothing moves. Every piece of the web Freddie has woven around him stays exactly where it’s supposed to. Willy tries again, and his breathing picks up. Freddie can see the muscles in his stomach tense, and for a second he’s worried it’s going to be too much.

Then Willy makes a noise, something breathy and quiet, and lets himself fall back into the cushion, all his muscles going slack and unresistant. His arms drop down to his lap, lying half on his stomach, and the position must feel awkward with them still tied together, but Willy doesn’t seem to care. 

Freddie wants to ask if he’s okay, if he needs anything, but he stays silent, his eyes roaming over Willy’s body. The temptation to touch him is strong, almost unbearable. It would be so easy to reach out and put a hand against his chest, just to feel him breathe, to trail his fingers along the goosebumps Freddie can see on his arms.

Freddie stays exactly where he is. Time passes, but Freddie doesn’t pay it any mind, just watches every move Willy makes, every time his muscles strain against his bonds, every little tilt of his head as he’s trying to feel out his surroundings without sight.

Eventually, it’s Willy who breaks the silence. “Freddie?” His voice is hesitant, but not scared. 

“What do you need?” A blush creeps up on Willy’s face as he starts shifting against the sheets with a newfound restlessness, and this time Freddie can see that the color doesn’t just rush up to his cheeks, but also down his chest. He wants to press his hand to it, wants to find out if the skin there is warmer than before. 

“I just— can I see?” Willy asks, and for a moment Freddie isn’t quite sure what he means. Then it clicks.

“Yeah, of course.” Willy sits up so Freddie can reach the knot of the blindfold easier and Freddie is almost sorry to make him lose his lax pose from before. His fingers fumble with the knot in an unusual display of clumsiness, but Freddie can’t help it. They’re so close that he can feel Willy’s breath against his neck, can smell his cologne and maybe even traces of whatever bodywash he used after their morning practice.

Finally, the fabric gives way, and Freddie pulls it off Willy’s face. Willy’s eyes are closed this time, making him seem even more relaxed, even more like he’s a sub on the verge of going down, but it’s far worse when he turns his face to Freddie, as if he can feel exactly where Freddie is. 

He opens his eyes. They’re so dark there’s barely any blue left, his pupils blown wide, and Freddie knows it’s because of the light, but Willy’s cheeks are still pink, his lips parted on a breath, and he’s so close, looking up at Freddie like he might have an answer to a question he hasn’t even asked yet, and—

Freddie is sure he doesn’t close the distance between them, would have sworn an oath that he’d never do it, not in a hundred years, but their lips still touch, and his brain stops working.

Willy’s lips are soft, just a barely-there pressure against his own, but it’s enough to break Freddie’s resolve. He pushes back, turning the kiss from almost chaste to hungry. Somehow his hand ends up in Willy’s hair, and he barely registers the feeling of it even though he’s given the exact sensation an indecent amount of thought. 

He’s too consumed by the feeling of Willy underneath him, his mouth pliant and moving softly against his, taking everything Freddie is giving him. Freddie’s other hand is on his neck, holding him still so he can lick into Willy’s mouth, and Willy lets out a moan and yields so easily, so beautifully, lets Freddie do what he wants. 

Distantly Freddie registers that he’s not sitting on the edge of the bed anymore, that he’s kneeling on it instead, braced above Willy, and there’s still so much distance between their bodies and he doesn’t know why. He drops some of his weight down on Willy, pinning him to the bed, and Willy makes a noise that doesn’t seem like he minds this new development at all.

Freddie pushes him down further into the sheets, and is grateful for whatever made him decide to do this on a bed, because this way there’s nothing to stop him from climbing between Willy’s legs, and pressing down and—

The hard edge of Willy’s hands digs into his stomach, stopping Freddie from bringing their bodies closer together, from grinding down against Willy, and for a second he wonders why Willy wouldn’t move his hand somewhere else before—

Freddie jerks back. “Fuck, I’m— I’m so—” His hands scramble on the nightstand, looking for the scissors, and he should pay more attention when handling sharp objects, but he can’t look away from Willy, can’t stop staring down at his bound hands that are clenched into fists. “I’m so— God, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Freddie,” Willy’s voice interrupts him, and he sounds unsettled for the first time this evening, and it’s no wonder because Freddie just—

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Freddie!” That makes Freddie’s eyes snap up, meeting Willy’s and he looks— confused mostly. “Why are you freaking out like this?” he asks, like Freddie didn’t just take advantage, like he didn’t just—

“I promised you I wouldn’t,” is all Freddie can find to say. “I promised and I…”

Willy’s brow furrows. “Yeah, but I was the one who kissed you.” 

That brings Freddie up short, but not for long. “I still shouldn’t have done this,” he argues, and his fingers finally close around the scissors. “Not while you were in a vulnerable position.”

“Well, I clearly wanted it,” Willy argues back, strangely combative for someone with his hands still tied together. “If anyone fucked up here it’s me.” 

“What about Kappy?” Freddie shoots back, but if anything that makes Willy only more defiant. 

“What about Kappy? You think he’s not okay with this? You think I haven’t talked to him about how much I—” He breaks off, color rushing to his face, and Freddie wants to ask, wants to know what they’ve talked about, what exactly Willy wants from him, but he can’t. “I’m the one who fucked up here, not you,” Willy says, more quietly.

Freddie’s heart is still beating too fast, something in his chest still coiled tight with tension, but he tries to ignore it. “How about I get you out of this and then we talk?” he suggests and his voice comes out surprisingly level. 

Willy nods, and he looks uncomfortable but not upset, doesn’t seem to register what a huge breach in BDSM protocol Freddie just committed. He stays quiet when Freddie unravels the rope around his arms, scissors lying forgotten back on the nightstand now that the urgency is gone. 

Freddie is glad he didn’t have to use them. There’s something meditative about unwrapping the rope, gives him some room to get his thoughts in order. The scene is thoroughly ruined, but the familiar motion still helps Freddie calm himself. 

“It seems like we need to talk,” he finally says, coiling up the rope, and his voice comes out as steady as he had wanted it to. He puts the rope down on the bed and gets up, even if it’s hard to drag his eyes away from Willy. There are red indents on his arms from where the rope had dug into his skin when he’d pulled at it, not deep enough to hurt, but deep enough to leave these temporary marks at least. Freddie wants to trace the lines with his fingers, wants to see Willy’s reaction to it and—

He shuts the thought down violently. Takes a breath, slow and measured. Refocuses. 

“Not in here though.” There’s quite a large possibility they won’t ever be in this room together again, but Freddie tries not to dwell on that. This time he very deliberately doesn’t sit next to Willy on the couch, choosing an armchair instead, putting as much distance as he can between them without making the conversation awkward. 

Willy looks small, curled up on the couch, even though he’s keeping his back straight, not quite giving in to the desire to hunch over and he’s not tugging on the sleeves of the sweater he’s put back on either. Despite his obvious discomfort he’s still the one to open the conversation.

“I get that there are some things that I should have told you beforehand, but I don’t— I don’t really get why you freaked out like that.” And of course he doesn’t, can’t see the parts where Freddie had grossly taken advantage of him. 

“You put yourself into my care and I abused that trust,” Freddie starts, and he should probably try to sound more compassionate, warmer, but he can’t, not with his recent loss of control still running through his veins. “It doesn’t matter that you wanted it in the moment, I shouldn’t have done anything without talking it through with you first. Not while you were tied up and couldn’t even pull away.”

He hadn’t even been able to talk with the way Freddie had attacked his mouth, and the thought makes his chest tighten almost painfully. He takes another breath, making himself still and calm as a rock. It won’t do Willy any good if he freaks out again. 

Willy brow furrows. “In the moment?” he repeats. “Wait, do you think this is just some...scene thing? That it was just because of the rope and stuff? Freddie, this isn’t the first time I wanted to kiss you.”

Freddie swallows, takes another breath, and doesn’t think about that. “It’s not uncommon to develop a certain...fascination with a dom. The image of control can be very appealing, and—”

“No, that’s bullshit,” Willy interrupts him. “I’m not like Kappy, or like you. I don’t get off on the whole—” he waves his hands around to indicate everything, a scene, BDSM in general, maybe being restrained. “Yeah, it’s hot, but it didn’t take seeing how you treat Kappy for me to— ‘develop a fascination’.” 

Freddie can practically see the air quotes around the last bit, and he should be glad that Willy is still comfortable enough to mock him, that he clearly isn’t intimidated, but his continued refusal to get the point is frustrating nonetheless. 

“Be that as it may,” Freddie says, discarding all of the implications of Willy’s words. “I still took advantage. You may not be into the whole—” He repeats Willy’s gesture, just to be petty, but it only makes Willy grin. “But I am. And I explicitly told you I wouldn’t act on it. And then I did.”

He doesn’t know how to make it any clearer than that. Willy still doesn’t look even close to appropriately appalled.

“Okay, fine. Obviously I can’t change your mind. But I don’t care, okay? I’m not— I don’t feel taken advantage of or anything like that.” He takes a breath, as if to steel himself for something. “And at least we don’t have to dance around it anymore. That I’m, uh, you know, really attracted to you.”

He’s biting his lip again, looking almost hopeful this time, but Freddie can’t indulge him, no matter how much he might want to. “You should have said something before,” he accuses, even though he knows it’s not fair, that it has a high chance of making Willy shut down.

To his surprise, Willy’s shoulders straighten. “Right, like you did.” The words sound flat and accusing and not at all like what Freddie is used to from him. Willy winces. “Sorry, that wasn’t helpful. Can we just say that we both fucked up, and should have talked about it before, and leave it at that?”

Freddie suppresses a sigh. “Alright.” Years of instincts struggle against just letting this go, but nothing good would come of arguing more with Willy. Not before he’s had some time to think it over, see the situation more clearly.

“Great, so— Obviously, I like you, and you’re really into seeing me tied up so—”

“This isn’t happening again.” It comes out harsher than Freddie had intended, but he really needs Willy to stop talking. “You can’t possibly be comfortable with me—”

“I’m really not the problem here. I wanted you to push me down and kiss me, you’re the one who keeps regretting it.” 

This time Freddie does actually sigh. “I regret the circumstance, not kissing you,” he admits. Willy opens his mouth to reply, and they’re going in circles here. Freddie tries a different approach. “You know, if you just wanted to sleep with me you could have just said so. No need for all the bondage,” he says, before Willy has a chance to say anything else. 

Willy does actually blush at that. “I don’t— I wasn’t lying about that. I genuinely wanted to learn. I still do. I like it, even if it’s not the way Kappy likes it. I just kinda thought we could work our way up to—” He waves his hands around again, not really miming anything, but Freddie still assumes he means sex.

“You know a scene doesn’t have to lead to sex. Kappy and I don’t have sex, and we’ve been doing this for a year.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you don’t want to.” Freddie freezes, but Willy just keeps going. “What? I saw the way you looked at him, it wasn’t exactly subtle. And Kappy won’t do anything about it because he doesn’t like risking a good thing. It’s not like it’s a big secret or anything.”

But it’s supposed to be, is the thing. Freddie isn’t supposed to have anyone read him this easily, it’s literally his job to prevent that from happening, and if some of that bleeds over into his private life it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

“I was there in the locker room too,” Willy continues, somewhat oblivious to Freddie’s apprehension. “I know it’s not what you usually do, but you saw how into it he was. I want to give him that.” He pauses. “I can’t be like that though, not really, so I figured I could just…”

He’s gesturing again, but this time it seems like he’s at least aware that Freddie has no clue what he’s trying to say. “I wanted to ask you to do a scene with us. With both of us, I mean. Eventually. Where you hurt him and stuff, and— and dom him. And me too, maybe, or I— I dunno, I’m sure you can think of something for me to do.”

It’s not at all what Freddie had expected. “You want to be a part of our scenes?” He asks, just to be sure, and Willy shakes his head.

“No, not really. That’s not— that’s for you and Kappy, I don’t really want to get in the middle of that.” He bites his lip, makes an effort to look Freddie in the eyes. “I just thought we could have something like the— like the locker room thing, but just the three of us. I want to have sex with you. Both of you. And with, uh, power exchanges and submission and stuff.”

Freddie takes a moment to think that over, just the logistics, without picturing anything. “Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?” he finally asks, because that seems to be the most pressing question.

Willy shrugs, looking embarrassed. “It’s not like it’s the only thing I want. I still want to learn, and I still want to try things. I wasn’t lying about that or anything. I was just thinking we could combine all that. You could show me how to— do stuff to Kappy directly.” He’s blushing again, his earlier bravado getting lost.

Freddie’s head is spinning. “I don’t—” he starts, then stops. “I need to think about this,” he finally says. It’s not a bad idea, necessarily. The main risk is that it’s too close to what Freddie has been wanting for a while, that he’ll find it impossible to control himself when presented with both Willy and Kappy following his lead, but maybe— Maybe he won’t have to. 

“I guess I should get out of your hair then,” Willy says, getting up from the couch. “And let you think about it. But just to be clear, since I haven’t been doing so well with that, I want to make Kappy come during a scene, with you. You can be a part of that if you want to, me and Kappy would both like that, but it’s your choice. I’m just telling you so there aren’t any misunderstandings.” 

Freddie chooses not to react to the not so subtle barb. “Do you often speak for your boyfriend?” he asks instead.

Willy grins at him, wide and mischievous. “No, but he likes it when I do.” And with that he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Content Notes: bondage; blindfolds; lots of UST; electro stim, no actual crossed boundaries but a character worrying about that a lot; brief mention of a past bad experience with BDSM, no safewording but some prematurely ended scenes.
> 
> If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me on my [writing Tumblr](https://vidrianawrites.tumblr.com/) or leave comment.


	2. Don't want a taste, I want it all

Freddie makes a very deliberate choice to come to a decision before the next time he meets with Kappy. He wants to agree, would have loved to agree right away when Willy had first laid out his plan, but that exactly is what makes him hesitate. Being impulsive hadn’t served him particularly well in his scenes with Willy so far. 

He’d messed something up in every single one, even if his last misstep was by far the most severe one. 

What he needs is a plan, and contingencies, because nothing with Willy has gone according to plan so far and Freddie doesn’t expect that to change anytime soon. 

The first thing he needs is information. For all that Willy had sounded perfectly sure that Kappy would be okay with this shift in their dynamic, Freddie still needs to ask him. Another thing he needs to know is both their comfort levels. He already knows Kappy’s likes and dislikes for a scene, but none of them had included anything sexual, so he needs to expand the list. 

Even during the locker room scene Freddie hadn’t bothered to ask Kappy about his limits first, trusting Willy to take care of that part, but if he’s going to be in charge he needs to know. 

And Willy, of course, is still a complete wildcard. All Freddie knows about him is that he likes to please his partners, that he likes to be restrained and blindfolded, but possibly more for the reaction it gets out of his partners than because he finds the sensation particularly pleasurable on its own. 

He’d also been very reluctant to touch Kappy in any sexual manner in the locker room, which suggests some apprehension towards an audience, and it’s something Freddie should keep an eye on, even if Willy had suggested he’d be there for the sex as well. Besides that, there’s his aversion to pain, though discomfort seems to be working out just fine.

Either way, Freddie knows next to nothing about what Willy might be into, and has only a vague idea of what he doesn’t like. He needs to ask, and to push in case Willy tries to squirm out of giving him any concrete answers. Ideally they should meet again, and Freddie would badger him until he had all the answers he needed, no matter how much Willy blushed or dodged the questions.

He doesn’t do it. Instead he decides to ask Kappy. 

He doesn’t bring it up until he and Kappy finish up their scene, doesn’t want to ruin it, in case it’s the last one. 

Freddie had deliberately scheduled it on a day he’d known Willy would be busy and unable to come pick Kappy up, just to give himself a bit more time.

It’s not that he’s never done any aftercare for Kappy, but the instances are few and far between, with Kappy preferring to be pampered by his boyfriend, and Freddie not objecting to it. Still, he has some idea of what Kappy likes, knows he thrives on physical contact, on soft touches and gentle praise, and it’s really no wonder he usually prefers Willy for this part.

“Did Willy tell you that he’s been over here a bit recently?” Freddie asks, keeping it deliberately vague, just in case Kappy truly has no idea.

Kappy hums, low and pleased, and pushes into Freddie’s hand in his hair, moving in slow circles. “You mean that you’ve been sceneing with him? Yeah, he mentioned that.” Freddie forces himself not to react to that, not to tense up, because with the way they’re tangled up there’s no way Kappy wouldn’t notice. 

“I thought he was keeping it a secret.” Kappy lifts his head from where it’s resting against Freddie’s chest so he can look at his face.

“He didn’t tell me what you were doing or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s none of my business.” Freddie thinks that over for a while, long enough that the position gets uncomfortable for Kappy and he lies back down against him.

“What if it was your business?” He asks, gently trailing a hand down Kappy’s back, mindful not to put too much pressure on the fresh welts marring his skin. “What if he wanted to join us some time.”

“Ah, so he did talk to you,” Kappy says, and he sounds...satisfied, like the cat that got the cream. “‘was wondering if he would.”

“You’d be okay with it?” Freddie asks, just to be sure, and Kappy hums again, in agreement this time, making the cat comparison even more apt. “What about having sex as part of a scene? With him...or with me. Would you be okay with that?” he continues, and there’s no way Kappy can’t hear his heartbeat with where he’s lying, so Freddie has to do everything he can to keep calm, to not let his body react.

“Yeah, of course, we talked about it a couple of times, but we weren’t sure if you’d be up for it.” Freddie doesn’t let himself exhale in relief, because his breathing was never erratic to begin with. A distant part of his mind can’t quite decide if it’s comforting or annoying that Willy apparently isn’t the only one using the couple plural. 

“I wasn’t sure you would be,” Freddie admits, and Kappy snorts, his breath puffing out against Freddie’s shirt with enough force that he can feel it. 

“‘course I would be,” he murmurs. “Do you have any clue how hot you are?” Freddie can’t help the instinctive clenching of his stomach muscles, but Kappy doesn’t seem to notice. “And Willy.” He lets out a happy little sigh, snuggling even closer, entangling his legs with Freddie’s. “I love Willy.” It’s not news to anyone who’s ever met Kappy, but the way he says it still makes something inside Freddie’s chest squirm.

“Always want Willy there,” Kappy continues, sounding sleepy and content, and Freddie nods, even though Kappy probably can’t see it from that angle. He’d said something similar during their locker room scene, but Freddie still isn’t quite used to someone actually meaning a declaration like that.

“How are you feeling?” Freddie asks, changing the topic. 

Kappy moves against him again, but this time he isn’t pulling closer. “Pretty good. I’ll get out of your hair in a bit.” He still sounds sleepy, but his speech is clear.

“You don’t have to,” Freddie says awkwardly. He’s not so good at this part, not with someone he’s not dating, someone who doesn’t actually want him to be the one caring for them. He can’t be like Willy, just as much as Willy couldn’t take his role during scenes. 

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m pretty recovered, I think.” He disentangles from Freddie, and the sudden loss of warm skin against him is jarring. Freddie props himself up on his elbows and watches as Kappy starts rummaging around for his shirt. The welts on his back still look red and angry.

“At least let me put some ointment on that first,” Freddie says, or orders more like, with the way his voice sounds. He suppressed a wince. He hadn’t meant to be quite so harsh. 

It makes Kappy pause at least, arms already in the sleeves of his shirt. “Yeah, alright,” he agrees, letting the shirt drop. He stays like that, sitting on the bed with his back to Freddie and Freddie takes that as the permission it is. 

He grabs the ointment from the nightstand, just his preferred cream to bring down swelling with some mild anaesthetic and starts spreading it across Kappy’s cuts with slow, careful touches.

Kappy exhales, his shoulders slouching as he relaxes, and his head falls forward. Even without being literally pressed against him, Freddie can still feel the heat he’s radiating. He’s not being as methodical as he could, lingers just a bit more on each welt than he really has to. 

Kappy doesn’t flinch, the muscles in his back staying perfectly loose, and Freddie wonders if it’s because it really doesn’t hurt, or because he’s so used to bearing pain without moving. 

He rubs the last of the cream into Kappy’s back, then leaves his hand lying against the warm skin. “All done,” he says, and it feels strange to break the silence after being so absorbed in his task, in the feeling of Kappy’s body underneath his hands. 

Kappy takes a breath, straightening out his shoulders before he moves just far enough away that he can turn around. “Thanks, man,” he says, easy, like it always is with him, but there’s a subtle line of tension in his shoulders, his just slightly too-rigid posture. 

“You could stay for dinner, if you want to,” Freddie offers, and he doesn’t know why it feels so strange, doesn’t realize how much he wants Kappy to say yes until he shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s cool. You’ve already done more than enough.”

Freddie raises an eyebrow at that. “I’ve done the bare minimum.”

Kappy grins back at him, and his posture’s easier now, so Freddie must have done something right. “Yeah, but I know this isn’t really your thing. And I got someone at home who’s more than happy to do some cuddling later tonight.” 

It stings more than Freddie had expected, but maybe it’s just that no one has never said it that directly before. “In that case, don’t let me keep you,” he says, voice perfectly level, getting up from the bed.

When he’s already halfway out the door, Kappy hesitates. “Hey, about what we talked about earlier. About doing a scene with Willy? I—” He breaks off, looking uncharacteristically timid. “Could you, uhm, be nice to him? Not like— I mean, not like I think you wouldn’t be, but—”

“I know how to be nice to people, Kappy,” Freddie says, not quite sure if he should be offended by the implication. 

Kappy’s eyes widen. “I know that, that’s not what I mean. Just, I think he’s more nervous than he lets on and he’s— he’s doing this for me so I want him to have a good time, and…”

Freddie reaches out and puts a hand on Kappy’s shoulders, effectively stopping his rambling. “I know how to handle a nervous sub, Kappy, even one that isn’t just a sub. And I know how to handle Willy.” That part isn’t completely true, but Freddie continues anyway. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll take care of it,” he says, making sure to meet Kappy’s eyes, and Kappy relaxes, becoming pliant underneath Freddie’s hand. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know you will. I just—” He shrugs, looking more like his carefree, easy-going self. “I just want this to be good for— for all of us.”

Freddie squeezes his shoulder, then lets go and takes a step back. “It’s going to be fine,” he repeats, and Kappy nods.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He takes a step back too. “See you at practice tomorrow,” he says with a wave, and turns to leave.

Freddie watches him all the way down the corridor, until the elevator doors close behind him. “It’s going to be fine,” he mumbles to himself, not entirely managing to be convincing. 

————— 

A part of Freddie wants to be meticulous about this, wants to plan out every last detail, come up with contingencies for every single eventuality no matter how unlikely, and drag the preparations out until he can be sure he’s accounted for everything.

Since that’s not a realistic goal, he settles for giving himself a week. They have a three day break between games coming up, and while Freddie doesn’t think this will be any more physically exhausting than other scenes with Kappy, it might be good if they don’t have to work together the next day, just in case. 

His most recent scenes with Kappy had been purposefully devoid of anything too suggestive, and it’s difficult to adjust to the new possibilities, to come up with a game plan that’s supposed to lead to sex as opposed to doing his best to avoid exactly that.

It’s not that he doesn’t have ideas. On purpose or not, it had been impossible not to notice which things Kappy reacted to most, what made him moan, and writhe. A couple of memorable times, what had made him thrust up into nothing but the air, although Freddie had never given him any relief. 

Freddie has the information from the locker room scene to take into account, since that was the most obviously sexual encounter they’d had so far. Kappy had been turned on by the pain in general, but the things that had made him truly desperate were the more intimate, targeted little cruelties. Travis torturing his nipples, Mitch dragging his nails down his exposed sides, John choking him. 

There’s also the matter of how sexual submission had clearly worked for him, how he’d gotten off on being used by others, servicing them and making them come with no thought spared for his own release. It had been beautiful to watch, but presented a bit of a logistical issue with only Willy as another participant in the scene. 

Willy himself is an unknown variable. While he’d been able to deal remarkably well with seeing his boyfriend beaten and used in the locker room, that did not necessarily translate to a more intimate setting. Freddie also hadn’t had any of his tools at his disposal in the locker room, just bare hands, so it’s hard to accurately estimate what Willy’s reaction to those might be. 

In the end he decides to keep it fairly simple, picks out the blindfold Willy already knows, a couple of restraints, and then, after some hesitation, adds a pair of clover nipple clamps.

————— 

Hockey keeps him busy enough that Freddie doesn’t have too much time to overthink things. On the day of, he takes some extra time to meditate, slows his breathing until he feels completely at home in his body, and then he’s ready.

It’s strange to see Willy and Kappy arrive together. They’ve never actually been in Freddie’s apartment at the same time, unless one counted the few times Willy had briefly come in on his mission to pick up Kappy after a scene. Still, they don’t look out of place, standing in Freddie’s living room, their heavy coats discarded and wearing casual clothes underneath.

They’ve dressed up a bit, Freddie notices with some warmth. Not enough to be obvious, not to the level of game day suits, but they’re both wearing expensive-looking sweaters and designer jeans. It’s not necessary, pretty superfluous actually, given that they’re likely to take all their clothes off, but it still makes the inside of Freddie’s chest warm.

It’s good to know that he’s not the only who’s been thinking about this, makes it easier for him to slip into the role he’s supposed to be in. 

“Welcome,” he says, with some warmth in his voice. “Glad you could make it.”

“We almost didn’t. The weather’s still horrible,” Kappy replies, easily picking up the small talk. There’s a subtle tension about him, some nervous energy, and it would be something Freddie would talk to him about, would try to resolve before a scene, if he wasn’t so sure that all Kappy is worrying about are Willy’s reactions. 

Willy seems a bit subdued, not as squirrely as he’d been the first time he’d come to talk to Freddie, but not remotely at ease either. Freddie takes a breath, perfectly measured and calm. He’d expected this, he’s planned for it, he can deal with this. 

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks, mostly just to be polite, and he’s proven correct when they both shake their heads almost in unison. “Is there anything else you need from me before we start?”

Kappy shoots Willy an uncertain look, but Willy just shakes his head. His hands are clenched, not hard enough to be uncomfortable but Freddie would take a bet that he’s trying very hard not to fidget with the hem of his sweater. 

It makes it easier somehow, that they’re both so nervous. Makes it easier to focus on them, on making them comfortable, calming them, instead of worrying about himself.

“Why don’t we sit down for a minute?” he offers, gesturing at the couch. Willy is quick to comply, settling down in his by now familiar corner, but Kappy takes a second longer to sit down next to him.

There’s technically enough space for Freddie to sit next to them, put them all on one level, but they’re not here to be on the same level. He sits in the armchair, leaning back, his hands on the armrest. It’s a comfortable position, but not slouched, and the fact that he’s taller than both of his guests is obvious, even with them all sitting.

“I know I talked to each of you separately about this, but I wanted to talk to both of you together as well. This is new territory for all of us, and I need to make sure we’re all on the same page.” He pauses and looks at them, letting the words sink in. 

Kappy already looks less tense, probably comforted by Freddie taking charge like this, but Willy’s fingers still stray towards the hem of his sleeve before he remembers not to do that. Kappy’s assumption about Willy being more nervous than he’d like to let on is likely accurate, but Freddie can deal with that.

“I’ve scened with both of you individually, but never together, never just the three of us,” he amends immediately. Willy might not have started out wanting to be a part of the locker room scene, but in retrospect his involvement is undeniable.

“However, the things I do with each of you are quite different. I hurt Kappy.” Willy doesn’t flinch, but his teeth close around his bottom lip again, and Freddie wishes they were already in the scene so he could tell him to stop doing that. “But I don’t hurt you, Willy, I just make you be good for me.” 

A shiver goes through Willy’s body, and Freddie can barely keep himself from grinning. They hadn’t talked about it, hadn’t put it into words, but with some reflection it had been obvious that that was the main thing Willy got out of being submissive. 

“I’m going to be in charge of both of you in this scene,” Freddie continues. “And if you have any reservations about that, tell me now.” Silence. “Good. I’ll be giving both of you orders, but you can of course voice any objections you might have.” He smiles, cold, a cruel edge to it. “I’ll decide if they’re worthwhile or not.”

Kappy’s eyes are half lidded, like he’s already halfway in the scene, already getting into the right headspace. Willy is wide-eyed, tense but curious. He doesn’t object either, doesn’t speak up. Still, Freddie doesn’t want to risk giving him the wrong impression. 

“If you tell me to stop, I will. No questions asked,” he adds, and Willy lets out a breath he’d been holding. So far so good. 

“Another thing that’s different today. I don’t usually include sex in a scene, but today I might. If you’re good.” Kappy’s breath catches audibly, like it’s a surprise to him, like they hadn’t planned it this way. Willy is harder to read, but there’s something in his eyes, not heat, but determination, like he takes this as a personal challenge, and the possibilities of that make a shiver run down Freddie’s spine.

Freddie folds his hands in his lap and lets his gaze wander over them one more time, scrutinizing. “That’s all. Is there anything you’d like to say?” 

Willy shakes his head, and Kappy follows a second later, belatedly realizing that he’s supposed to react. 

Freddie smiles. “Alright then. Kappy, if you would do the honors?” Kappy looks confused for a second, but quickly catches on when Freddie jerks his head in the direction of the playroom. He gets up, his movements already having the sort of lethargic grace that they often do in the middle of a scene. 

He kneels down on the small rug draped not far from the door to Freddie’s playroom, his head bowed. Freddie just looks at him for a bit, makes him wait. He turns back to Willy who’s still sitting on the couch. 

“You’re not a natural sub the way he is,” he begins, and Willy’s gaze immediately snaps from Kappy back to Freddie. “And you know him better than I do. If there’s anything you’d like to do to him, feel free to let me know. And if there’s anything you’d like me to do to you…” He drags the end of the sentence out unnecessarily, basking in Willy’s attention. “The same thing applies.”

There it is again. Willy’s blush is familiar by now, but it’s still a lovely sight each and every time. The way he just nods obediently is also quite gratifying. 

“Good.” Freddie gets up. Standing, he basically towers over Willy, but this isn’t the time to think about that. “Follow me.” He doesn’t look to see if Willy obeys, just turns and strides over to where Kappy is still kneeling.

The next bit is familiar, well-worn, but there’s a different weight to it today when Freddie puts his hand on Kappy’s neck and squeezes. He’d told Willy about this part, about how routine makes it easier for both of them to fall into the right mindset, but he’s never been aware of it the way he is today.

Kappy’s skin is warm underneath his fingers, and he squeezes down a bit harder until he feels Kappy’s back bow even further, letting himself be pressed down. It changes something inside Freddie, makes his mind clear and sharp, makes him pull his shoulders back and hold his head high. 

“Come,” he instructs, letting go of Kappy’s neck and walking towards the playroom. There’s a scuffling noise behind him, like someone standing up, and Freddie stops. “I didn’t say you could walk.”

The sharp inhale of breath is definitely Willy, and Freddie pauses for a second, waiting to see if he’s going to protest this treatment of his boyfriend, but Willy doesn’t say anything.

Freddie walks into the playroom, confident that they’ll both follow without further instructions. He pauses over his laid-out equipment for a second, contemplating, then he grabs the clover clamps. It’s a bit of a risk, with Willy being so unused to seeing his boyfriend in any kind of device, but in the moment Freddie feels confident that he can make it work, wants to see both their reactions when he brings them out. 

“This new arrangement opens up some interesting possibilities,” he says, turning around and holding up the two clover clamps by their connecting chain.

Willy eyes them, slightly dubious, but Kappy lets out a gasp. He’s kneeling on the floor, not in his typical pose, but more like he’d just stopped crawling across the floor there. His eyes are fixed on the clamps dangling from Freddie’s hands, and Willy looks down at the noise.

“See, I’m sure you knew this already, but your boyfriend is quite...sensitive in some places,” Freddie continues, talking only to Willy now. “And in the past I’ve mostly avoided them, but now...”

Willy’s gaze drops to Kappy’s chest, then back to the clamps Freddie is still holding and his eyes widen. “Oh,” he says, barely audible, but he doesn’t sound disgusted or scared, and Freddie can work with that.

“How about you help him get out of his clothes so we can put those on,” he suggests. Kappy’s hands fly to the hem of his sweater, ready to strip, but he freezes when Freddie clicks his tongue. “I didn’t say you could move.”

Freddie sits down in one of the armchairs, facing the other two, the clover clamps clinking softly as he runs them through his hands. “What’s the point of having both of you here if I don’t get to enjoy you two together.” It’s probably a bit too honest, a bit too focused on himself, but Freddie doesn’t really care at the moment.

It has the desired reaction. Kappy stars up at Willy with dark eyes, silently begging. Willy is looking at Freddie instead, a new steadiness to his posture that hadn’t been there before. “You’re right,” he says, then drops down to the floor in front of Kappy, and he might be kneeling now, but it’s practical, not submissive. 

He reaches for the hem of Kappy’s sweater and pulls it up, Kappy obediently raising his arms to let him take it off. He’s wearing a t-shirt underneath and Willy reaches for that as well, without having been told to, but this time he’s slow about it, methodical. He runs his hands up underneath the fabric, stroking along Kappy’s sides, and Kappy shivers. 

Willy only pushes the shirt up to Kappy’s armpits, just so his chest is fully exposed and Kappy can’t see him particularly well, then he leans in. He presses a kiss to Kappy’s sternum first, just a coy press of lips, but Freddie can still see the way Kappy’s eyes fall shut in response. 

Willy doesn’t let it stay innocent. He wraps his lips around one of Kappy’s nipples next and he must be doing something good because it forces a moan out of Kappy, low and surprised like he hadn’t expected it at all. 

From this angle Freddie can’t actually see much of what Willy is doing, but it barely matters. He has a great view of Kappy’s reactions, of how his body starts trembling under Willy’s ministrations, how his mouth opens as if to protest when Willy pulls away. 

“Oh, I see what you mean now. He’s a lot more responsive like this,” Willy muses, and Freddie is incredibly pleased he’s picking up the thread of talking about Kappy like he’s not there without having to be told to. 

“Imagine what he’ll be like after I put him down properly.” Willy turns to look at Freddie at that and his eyes are dark. 

“Oh, I remember.” His voice is a bit hoarse. Freddie doesn’t let himself get caught up in that, they have a common goal after all.

“Are you just going to leave your work half-finished?” he challenges, and Willy grins.

“‘course not.” He turns back to Kappy and starts working on his other nipple, and now Freddie has a better view. Kappy’s nipple looks red and slick with spit, like Willy had been biting it, and by the quiet noises Kappy is failing to suppress, it’s easy to guess Willy must be doing the same thing now.

Freddie catches himself leaning forwards, trying to see better, and straightens his posture. Control. It’s important for him to stay in control, no matter how intuitive Willy might be about what he wants. 

He takes a breath, mentally takes a step back from what’s happening in front of him, centers himself. Kappy’s eyes are closed again, his mouth open, and he’s pushing into Willy’s touch, his upper body bowing forward to get as close as he can, his breathing fast. Freddie should probably reprimand him for being greedy, but there’ll be time for that later. 

When Willy finally pulls away, his lips are red and there’s a flush on his cheeks. Freddie grabs the arms of his chair so he isn’t tempted to reach out to him. “Look at you taking initiative,” he teases. There’s a boundary somewhere that he can’t risk overstepping, that will tip the scales and change the atmosphere, making Willy feel unsure. This sort of gentle teasing seems to fall within the safe parameters though.

Willy grins up at him. “I just figured I should get him ready. Unless I misunderstood and those actually go somewhere else,” he adds with a nod towards the clamps. 

“They don’t. But you should finish your task.” Willy looks back at Kappy, who’s still tangled in his shirt. He pushes the fabric up higher and Kappy raises his arms without making a sound. 

The way he’s looking at Willy when he finally pulls the shirt off is bordering on desperate. Freddie’s never seen him this far gone just because of some nipple play, but it would make sense that Willy’s effect on him would be far more intense. 

Willy smiles at him, unfittingly gentle for their position, and leans down to press a quick kiss to Kappy’s lips, pulling back before Kappy can react properly.

“Do you want his pants off too?” he asks, his hands toying with the waistband of Kappy’s jeans, fingertips sneaking underneath the material to run along the skin there. Kappy’s eyes fall shut again like this gentle touch is already more than he can handle. It teases at something inside of Freddie, makes him want to push and see him break under it.

“Might as well. It’ll be more comfortable.”

Willy raises and eyebrow at that. “Since when do you want him to be comfortable?”

Freddie smiles at that, making sure to catch Willy’s eye. “Who says he’s the one I want to be comfortable. Maybe I’m just trying to make things easier for you later on.”

Willy swallows, looks down at Kappy, then back to Freddie. “I appreciate it,” he replies, his voice husky. Then he lets his hands travel to the front of Kappy’s jeans, but he only toys with the button for a moment instead of opening it. “This is kind of a bad position for this.”

“Good point. Kappy, go lie down on the bed.” 

Kappy’s eyes open instantly, and he hurries to obey, but his legs seem a bit wobbly as he stands up. Standing, it’s obvious that he’s already hard, the bulge of his cock clearly visible along the front of his jeans. Willy is still kneeling on the floor in front of him, and he uses the new position to lean forward and press another quick kiss to the skin just above Kappy’s jeans.

Kappy pauses, clearly trying to compose himself, and Freddie fights down the temptation to change the plan on the fly. To order to Willy to blow Kappy instead and see how long he can make Kappy hold off on coming. 

“Now,” he orders instead, and Kappy’s whole body jerks. He hastily climbs on the bed and arranges himself on his back while Willy gets back to his feet. 

“Is there anything specifically you’d like me to do?” he asks and it opens up a wealth of possibilities. Freddie could ask him for anything, could tell him to do anything he wanted, and with the way Willy’s currently behaving he’d at least try to follow the order. 

“I just want you to take his pants off, how you do it is up to you.” They’ll have time for it later, they might even have time for it some other day, there’s no reason to hurry, when he can just enjoy, can just watch where Willy’s instincts take him.

“So, you don’t mind if I have a little fun with him?” Willy asks, and he’s taking to this better than Freddie could have ever imagined.

“By all means, show me what you got.” It’s not a challenge, not really, but Willy still looks up sharply.

Willy holds his gaze for a second longer, then he climbs on top of Kappy, pressing him down on the bed, and by the gasp Kappy lets out it’s quite a bit rougher than he usually would be. Instead of continuing in the same vein, Willy starts pressing soft kisses to Kappy’s stomach.

Or Freddie thinks it’s gentle, loving, until he sees Kappy’s reaction. He’s shaking, trying hard to stay still, not to press into Willy or reach for him. Because this isn’t the way they normally do things, this is a scene, and in a scene Kappy doesn’t move until instructed to, isn’t allowed to be greedy, and Willy’s presence changes none of that.

Willy’s hands are back on Kappy’s fly, but he’s still not making any move to open them. He’s just stroking over the rough fabric with barely any pressure, just enough that Kappy can feel it, not enough that it feels good. 

Kappy lets out a whine and twitches, and Freddie tuts. “Come on Kappy, you can take more than that,” he admonishes, and Kappy bites down hard on his lip to keep his noise down. 

He lets out a sigh of relief when Willy finally starts working his pants open, and obediently lifts his hips so Willy can pull them down. Willy doesn’t seem particularly interested in actually getting them off, though. He leaves them tangled around Kappy’s thighs, effectively immobilizing Kappy’s legs. 

“You know, I kinda like having you like this,” he muses, stroking his fingers along the exposed skin of Kappy’s inner thigh, and Kappy sucks in a sharp breath. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since the locker room,” he continues, “You’re so pretty like this, trying so hard to be good. I thought so back then too.

This isn’t meant for Freddie’s ears, is far too personal, far too intimate, but he doesn’t move, and Willy doesn’t stop talking. “I didn’t think it’d be so easy to get you here.” He sits up abruptly and turns to look at Freddie. “You really know what you’re doing,” he adds with a smile.

Freddie resists the urge to clear his throat, his mouth feeling uncharacteristically dry. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He could just tell Willy to continue, wait and see where this goes on its own and just stay and supervise. It’s close enough to what Willy wanted right from the start.

“So, when are you going to put those on him?” Willy asks, curiosity shining through, and Freddie makes a different decision. 

“As soon as you get his pants off properly.” He gets up, making sure to keep his stride slow and easy as he walks over to the bed, giving Willy enough time to follow his instructions. “Sit up,” he orders and Kappy has to brace himself on his elbows before getting into a sitting position, doing his best not to dislodge Willy, who’s still kneeling over his legs. His lower lip already looks raw from the way he’d been biting it and even though he’s not shaking anymore, it’s obvious that he’s painfully hard already. He crosses his wrists behind his back without Freddie having to tell him to. 

“Do you want to do the honors or should I?” Freddie asks, holding out the clover clamps to Willy, who hesitates, looking uncertain for the first time since they started. “I think I’ll just show you for now,” Freddie continues as if he hadn’t asked the question at all. “Pay attention.”

Kappy’s nipples are still hard, from Willy’s earlier ministrations and probably from how turned on he is in general, but Freddie still runs his fingernails over them, just to make sure. “It’s pretty simple really,” he starts explaining. “You attach one of these each.” He holds up one clamp for Willy to see, and then does just that. Kappy sucks in a harsh breath when the first one presses down on his sensitive flesh, but stays still otherwise.

He does just as well with the second, and if he was someone who got off on praise Freddie would be telling him so. “And when he’s all dressed up in his pretty, new jewelry,” Freddie continues, “you pull on the chain.” 

He jerks down hard and Kappy moans, his whole body twitching from the sudden pain. Freddie isn’t paying him any attention though, his focus is on Willy, whose eyes are wide and startled. This is it, an important step in deciding how this is going to go, if Willy can stomach his boyfriend being hurt in this smaller, more intimate setting, with him as a participant. 

Freddie can see his throat working as he swallows, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell Freddie to stop, or look away, so Freddie continues his explanation. “These are a bit different from other nipple clamps in that this mechanism here causes them to tighten when you pull on the chain. So it’s not so much the impact of the pulling that hurts, as the added pressure.”

He pauses, waiting for Willy’s reaction, but he still doesn’t speak, so he keeps going. “Some people like to attach weights to the chain and increase the pressure that way.” Kappy’s body shivers at that, but it’s small enough that Freddie probably wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t so close. 

“I’ve done that before, but we won’t be doing that today. The point is that they’re quite variable, you can cause quick bursts of pain by pulling on the chain—” He does just that and Kappy twitches violently. Freddie still doesn’t even look at him. “—or you can slowly increase the pressure for a more gradual impact.” This time his movement is more sedate, just a gentle downward pressure until he feels a resistance against the chain, then he keeps pulling, more and more, until Kappy lets out pained gasp.

Willy’s expression is still unreadable. Freddie doesn’t know if it’s because he’s appalled and trying not to show it for Kappy’s sake, or if he’s just overwhelmed. “They’re also prettier than regular nipple clamps,” Freddie adds as an afterthought, and that seems to finally get Willy out of his stupor.

“They are,” he agrees, and there’s something in his voice Freddie can’t place. “They’re very pretty.” His eyes are glued to Kappy’s chest, where the chain is dangling. Willy swallows again. “Can I…”

He doesn’t finish the question but Freddie nods anyway. “Go ahead.”

Willy is careful when he takes the chain in his hand, watching for each and every one of Kappy’s reactions. He’s tentative when he first starts pulling down, barely any force behind it, but becomes more confident when Kappy’s eyes fall shut again. Even when Kappy lets out a whine, he doesn’t let go like Freddie had expected, but holds on a moment longer, then gently releases the chain. 

Kappy’s breath comes out fast and unsteady, even as he’s trying to hold as still as he possibly can. He already looks perfectly debauched, already close to going down, only from his boyfriend hurting him a little bit. Only because it’s Willy. 

Willy still looks wide-eyed and apprehensive. “You know, for your first time doing this you’re doing really well,” Freddie says, getting Willy’s attention. “I mean, look at him. He’s loving this.” Kappy makes a wordless sound of agreement, something between a moan and a whine, and Freddie finds himself surprised again at how far gone he is already. 

“It’s easier like this,” Willy says, surprising Freddie as well. “With you here, I mean. I couldn’t—” He bites his lip, and this time Freddie doesn’t just have to watch. His thumb brushes across Willy’s lower lip, making him release it in surprise.

“Don’t do that,” he orders, but his voice is soft, gentle almost, so different from how he’d talked to Kappy. Willy doesn’t argue, but there’s a bit of color on his cheeks when Freddie pulls his hand away. It’s a much better look than the quiet anxiety before.

“I couldn’t do this without you,” Willy says, his voice much steadier now. “I wouldn’t know where to start.” 

Freddie considers that for a moment. “It looks to me like you’re figuring out what you’re comfortable with, that’s all anyone could ever ask for in the beginning. I’m happy to help you of course.” He’s aware that Kappy is still just sitting there, waiting for either of them to do something, but he’s made Kappy wait for far less important reasons than this. 

“Which parts do you like so far?” Freddie prompts gently.

“His reactions,” Willy responds right away, his eyes flying back to Kappy who preens a bit under the attention. Freddie gives the chain a harsh yank in retaliation, and Kappy groans again, letting his head drop. 

Willy’s face goes back to apprehension. “You didn’t like that,” Freddie says, not asking. “Which part don’t you like? You seemed fine with doing this to him yourself.” 

Willy’s brow furrows. “That was different, that wasn’t as...violent.” He looks chagrined, like he’s not quite sure what he saying.

Freddie nods. “So the suddenness, the impact, feels more violent to you. That makes sense.” Willy looks up at that, his expression so hopeful that Freddie has to smile. “You two are more well-matched than you realize.” Kappy enjoyed quick, sharp pain as well, but he really thrived under more drawn out torment. 

Freddie pauses for a moment, thinking it over. “I hadn’t really planned on using any more props today, but I think this might work.” He gets up, leaving a slightly bewildered Willy behind. “Play with him a bit until I get back,” he instructs without looking back at the pair on his bed. “You don’t have to use the clamps if you don’t want to.”

Just a moment later, Kappy lets out another gasp, a clear indicator that Willy had definitely used the clamps again. Freddie smirks. It’s good to know the fight hasn’t completely gone out of him. 

He has to look around in the drawer for a bit before he finds it. He’d never used it with Kappy before, had always feared it might give off the wrong impression, like Freddie was trying to lay claim to him in some way, even though that symbology of it isn’t its only possible use. 

“Do you remember what John did for Kappy in the locker room scene?” Freddie asks, turning back around. Willy has moved while he’d been busy, sitting right in front of Kappy now, close enough to kiss him if he wanted to, close enough to whisper more sweet nothings in his ear. He lets go of the chain before looking over at Freddie, and freezes. 

“I figured you probably wouldn’t be comfortable with wrapping your hands around Kappy’s throat, but if you’re still interested in breath play there’s an easy workaround.” He holds out the collar, the polished leather gleaming in the light, metal buckles shining. 

Kappy’s breath catches, audible even from this far away, and his obvious eagerness throws Freddie for a second. Kappy hadn’t ever mentioned that he’d be particularly interested in being choked and especially after the locker room scene Freddie would have expected him to, if he wanted more. 

A moment later the picture realigns itself. “And I feel like Kappy would very much like you to put a collar on him,” Freddie says, looking at Willy, but he still catches Kappy’s full-body shiver at the words. 

“Oh,” Willy says quietly, in the way Freddie has now come to identify as him being surprised at his own reactions to something. He just sits there, frozen, until Freddie joins them again.

“You don’t actually have to choke him,” he reassures, addressing the more obvious worries first. “But I think he’d still like the collar. Wouldn’t you?” The last part is addressed at Kappy, who has to swallow before he can answer. 

“Please,” he rasps out, sounding like he hasn’t spoken in hours. “Please, Willy, I want—”

“That’s enough,” Freddie says, calm and quiet. Kappy snaps his mouth shut instantly. “What do you think?” he asks Willy, trying to sound as neutral as he can.

Willy’s eyes are fixed on the collar. “I don’t know,” he starts. “It feels kind of…”

“Dehumanizing?” Freddie suggests and Willy flinches.

“Well, yeah,” he admits. “He’s not like—” He breaks off, his cheeks going red. It’s charming, in a way, but Freddie can’t focus on that, has to navigate the problem instead. 

“I can see how you’d think that, but a power exchange is often a part of a scene, and obvious signs of submission like this can be a part of it.” He pauses, running his fingers along the edge of the collar. It’s new, barely used, but high-quality, so the leather is soft to the touch already. “Scenes are inherently about fantasy. If you put a collar on Kappy that doesn’t mean you own him, just that both of you might like to play with that.”

He glances at Kappy, who’s looking at Willy with such adoration that Freddie feels like Willy might already own a part of him anyway. The thought makes the inside of his chest feel weird, strangely hollow, but he pushes the feeling away. 

“It’s just a fantasy,” he says, voice gentle. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Willy’s breath shudders out of him, and he closes his eyes for a moment. “Okay,” he finally says, sounding a bit strangled. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Only if you want to,” Freddie interjects. “You should only do it if you both want it. That’s the most essential part of any scene. Don’t do this just for Kappy.”

“No, I— I want it, too.” He’s looking at Kappy when he says the last part, looking uncomfortably vulnerable and open, and Freddie would avert his eyes if that wasn’t too obvious. Instead he just presses the collar into Willy’s hand and retreats a couple of inches to give them space. 

He tries not to pay too much attention to Willy wrapping the collar around Kappy’s neck, but he still doesn’t miss the way Kappy inhales when the leather touches his throat, or the way Willy’s hands shake just the slightest bit when he fastens the clasp.

For all the intensity of the moment, it only lasts a few seconds, then they’re left just staring at each other, Willy eyeing the collar around Kappy’s throat and Kappy looking like he’s calling upon all his willpower to stop himself from reaching out and touching it. 

“You can touch it, you know. That’s kind of the point,” Freddie tells Willy, and it sounds petulant to his own ears. Willy doesn’t seem to notice though, just reaches out to run his fingers along the edge, resting at the place where Kappy’s Adam’s apple pushes against the restraint. 

He pauses there for a second, then his fingers hook into one of the metal rings attached to the collar and he pulls. Kappy lets himself be dragged forward easily, and sighs happily when Willy kisses him. It grows passionate quickly, nothing like the teasing little kisses Willy had given him before. 

Kappy moans into the kiss, and his hands drop from behind his back to grab Willy’s head and deepen the kiss even further, but Willy pulls away.

“Is he allowed to touch me?” he asks Freddie, and even though he sounds breathless, his eyes are clear, his focus wholly on Freddie now.

“Not unless I tell him to.” Freddie is getting whiplash from these sudden changes in mood, had been fully prepared to step back and leave the two of them alone with their new intensity, but if Willy wants him to get back in the scene he’s not complaining.

He grabs the nipple clamp chain and yanks, just once, but more harshly than before. Kappy lets out a pained gasp, but then bows his head, accepting his punishment with grace. The movement makes the collar dig into his neck, drawing Freddie’s attention back to where Willy’s finger is still tangled with it.

Willy’s expression is caught somewhere between sheepish and serious. “Was that okay? I wanted to see what he’d do.”

Freddie has to weigh his answer for a moment. “You shouldn’t ever give your sub tasks they can’t fulfill, and since I’m in charge of the scene you shouldn’t force Kappy to do anything that would require him to neglect one of my orders.” Seeing Willy’s stricken expression, he adds, “That doesn’t mean you can’t push him, or try to distract him into misbehaving. In fact, Kappy doesn’t mind being pushed that way, do you?”

Kappy shakes his head immediately, but stays silent, a good indicator that he’s trying to get back into his submissive mindset, back to being perfectly obedient.

Willy still removes his hand from Kappy’s neck, looking a bit apprehensive. “I don’t know if I—”

“You did it before,” Freddie interrupts before Willy can dig himself in too far. “You’ve been doing it the whole evening, and look how well that’s been working.” He lets his eyes travel over Kappy, drops his voice a bit. “He’s a mess, in the best way possible.” 

Kappy shivers, just from his words and now it feels salvageable after all, like Freddie still has a place in this. 

“Now, before you turned the collar into an impromptu love confession to each other—” Willy blushes, ducking his head a bit, but he looks only mildly embarrassed rather than offended by Freddie’s callousness. Kappy preens, his head lifting just a bit, his posture straightening as he pushes out his chest. Freddie is very tempted to pull on the chain again, but Kappy hasn’t actually anything to deserve it. —it does actually serve a purpose beyond that.”

Willy’s eyes fix on the collar again. “I don’t think I can do that.” He’s biting his lip again, and this time Freddie’s had enough. He grabs Willy’s chin and hold him still, then sets his own teeth against Willy’s lower lip, pulling it free, and it’s not a kiss, not really, but Willy still lets out a startled gasp in response. 

“I told you to stop doing that,” Freddie says, and he’s pulling away, but his hand is still on Willy’s chin, and he can’t help stroking along his jawline. He’s been wanting to do that for a while now. 

“Will you kiss me again if I keep doing it?” Willy asks, and he’s leaning into Freddie’s touch, tilting his chin to press into the light pressure. Freddie really wants to say yes.

“I shouldn’t reward disobedience,” he replies, apologetic. “And that wasn’t a kiss anyway.” 

Instead of backing off like Freddie had expected, Willy holds his gaze. “What do I have to do to get you to kiss me for real, then?”

It’s a bold question, much bolder than Freddie would have expected, but he appreciates the initiative. “Just be good for me,” he says, and his voice comes out much lower than intended. This close, Freddie can feel the way Willy’s breath catches just a tiny bit. 

It’s difficult to tear himself away, but he manages somehow. “I’m not actually expecting you to choke Kappy,” he says, finally dropping his hand from Willy’s face, and turning to look at Kappy. 

He’s sitting stock still, might not even be breathing, but if Freddie had thought there might be some anger or defensiveness in his face from seeing Freddie kiss his boyfriend, he doesn’t find it. Instead his eyes are dark and intense the way they rarely ever get during a scene, and with the minimal clothing he’s still wearing it’s easy to see that he’s turned on, his cock straining against the thin fabric of his underwear. 

Still, Freddie shouldn’t take too many liberties. “How about you play with him for a bit, and I’ll see what I can do with the collar,” he suggests.

Willy perks up at that, looking over to Kappy, and the expression on his face is so eager it’s bordering on hungry now. “Can I make him come?” he asks, not even looking at Freddie, and Freddie can see Kappy’s cock twitch at the words.

“If you want to.” It’s strange to have this be the goal of a scene with Kappy, especially as Freddie’s spent so long trying to avoid this outcome, but it’s not like he can’t see the appeal. “Don’t make it easy though.”

Willy’s eyes do flicker back to him at that. “If I do a good job will you finally kiss me?”

Freddie freezes, just for a second, probably not long enough to be noticable, but it still shouldn’t be happening. “If you do a good job,” he agrees, because that’s open to interpretation, that leaves room for both of them to change their minds about it without any hard feelings. “Get started.”

Willy doesn’t have to be asked again, he moves to get right into Kappy’s space and puts his hands on his thighs, digging his fingers into the soft skin there. “Hey, Kappy,” he murmurs, “What do you want me to do for you?”

Kappy opens his mouth, then closes it, shooting Freddie a pleading look. “I think you can come up with something yourself,” Freddie replies. He doesn’t usually let Kappy ask for things in a scene, only ever gives him options to choose from, and he won’t change his approach just because the circumstances are different. 

Also, he can admit quietly to himself, he’d really like to see what Willy does on his own. 

Willy doesn’t have to think about it long, he leans down and delicately takes the chain connecting the clover clamps into his mouth, then slowly starts to pull, his gaze on Kappy’s face to see his reaction.

Kappy’s eyes fall shut as the pressure increases, and he lets out a pained moan. The muscles in his arms strain as he grips his own hands tighter, trying to keep control. It makes for an incredibly pretty picture, Willy with the chain between his teeth and Kappy trying not to lose his composure, and it also has the advantage of leaving Willy’s hands free.

At first he doesn’t do much, just slowly rubs them up and down Kappy’s thighs, then up Kappy’s sides until his fingers brush against the metal fastenings of the clover clamps, then back down again. 

Finally he brings them to the waistband of Kappy’s underwear, framing Kappy’s hips, his thumbs brushing along the dip just inside of Kappy’s hip bones, and Freddie can see the goosebumps rising up on Kappy’s skin just from the light caress. 

Willy finally drops the chain from his mouth, and the sudden release of pressure makes Kappy gasp in relief. He doesn’t get much respite though, because Willy’s fingers are sneaking underneath his waistband, and Freddie can see them frame Kappy’s cock, stroking from root to tip even underneath the fabric.

For a moment Freddie wonders if Willy has some reservations after all about getting Kappy off in front of someone else, given how reluctant he’d been to get involved in the locker room, but then he stops this particular kind of teasing and finally frees Kappy’s cock.

It’s not like Freddie’s never seen Kappy naked and hard before. Even without the public scene, there have been plenty of times he’s had Kappy stripped down and turned on in front of him, but this time still feels different. He looks gorgeous, all trussed up in the clamps and desperate, trying so hard not to react to his beautiful boyfriend touching him and only barely succeeding.

“Slight change of plans,” Freddie announces, and his voice sounds rougher than he had expected. Willy looks up at that, but he doesn’t let go of Kappy’s cock. “Get him out of those first,” he instructs with a nod towards Kappy’s underwear. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Willy finally drops them on the pile clothing beside the bed.

“Kneel,” Freddie says to Kappy, who follows the command easily. It looks obscene, having him on the bed with his hands behind his back, his hard cock lying against his thigh, already leaking precome. Freddie doesn’t linger on the image too much. 

“You can still try to make him come, but he isn’t allowed to until I let him.” Kappy lets out a whine, but doesn’t actually protest.

Willy tilts his head to the side. “How hard do you want me to try?” 

Freddie smiles. “As hard as you want to. You probably know what he can take better than I do.” 

Willy grins at that. “Guess I do.” Then, without preamble, he leans down and wraps his lips around Kappy’s cock. 

Kappy lets out a startled moan and his whole body curls forward, before he remembers himself and tries to stay still again. Freddie could punish him for that, but he’s far too entranced by the picture the two of them make to act on it.

Willy isn’t really moving, and it doesn’t look like he’s sucking particularly hard either, but with the wounded little noises Kappy keeps making he must be doing something spectacular with his tongue. It can’t possibly actually be getting Kappy off, but it must still feel good, and with him already this hard it must be torture. Freddie is kind of impressed. 

Willy makes a satisfied humming noise, and Kappy shivers. Freddie can see his fingers dig into the skin of his hands so hard they’re stark white. He could just let this go on for a while, would happily just watch Willy’s pretty lips stretch around Kappy’s cock while Kappy twitches above him, but he’s not just here to be a voyeur.

Kappy doesn’t even notice Freddie sitting down behind him. His eyes are closed, his mouth open, and he seems far too absorbed to even feel the bed dip. He must notice Freddie pressing a hand flat against the center of his back to keep him in position, but he doesn’t react.

He definitely notices when Freddie grabs the back of the collar and pulls up.

Kappy’s breath comes out in a gurgle before it’s cut off completely. Freddie holds on, counts the seconds in his head. One. Two. Three. He lets go, and Kappy almost chokes again as air rushes back into his lungs. There’s a wet pop as Willy pull off and sits up.

“Did you just choke him while I was still blowing him?” he asks, and despite him not even doing that much his lips look red and used. Freddie wants to touch them, press his own against them to feel if they’re warm, sensitive. 

He grabs the collar and pulls again, and Kappy doesn’t even have enough breath to make a noise this time.“Yes, I did.”

Willy hums appreciatively. “I figured, because he’s usually so good at keeping still when I blow him and he just started twitching all of a sudden.”

Freddie waits another two seconds then releases Kappy again. “You should have better blowjob etiquette,” he admonishes, then after a moment of deliberation adds, “especially since your boyfriend looked so pretty giving it to you.”

It gets the desired reaction, Willy’s cheeks coloring up again, but he doesn’t look embarrassed, more like he’s glowing under the praise.

“Sorry,” Kappy chokes out, his voice rough like he’s the one who’d just been blowing someone, except for an hour instead of just a minute. 

Freddie clicks his tongue, threading two fingers underneath the back of the collar, but this time he doesn’t pull, just leaves them lying against the warm skin as a warning. “I should make you apologize properly,” he muses. “But I think you’d like that too much.” Freddie can’t imagine getting to touch Willy could ever be anything other than a reward, and Kappy seems to agree with the way his shoulders slump.

He looks over Kappy’s shoulder and meets Willy’s eyes. “Grab the chain again,” he instructs, and Willy does, holding it loosely between his hands, not putting any pressure on it. “Keep it just like that.” 

Freddie pulls at the collar again, but this time it isn’t a quick movement to cut off Kappy’s breath. Instead he moves his hand from Kappy’s back to his stomach and presses lightly, making him lean backwards. Kappy’s back bows as he bends backwards to avoid having his breath cut off again, and the chain dangling from his nipples pulls taut. 

He pauses, but Freddie doesn’t, and after just a second Kappy has to decide between the pain or having his breath cut off. Freddie keeps pulling backwards, forcing Kappy’s back to arch appealingly, and then stops. 

From this angle Freddie can’t see his abs tense as he tries to hold the position without using his arms for help, but he can feel the muscles twitch underneath his hand. He waits for the twitching to turn into all-out trembling before he releases Kappy.

Kappy pulls himself back into an upright position and takes a deep shuddering breath. He tenses when Freddie’s fingers return to the collar, but relaxes again when Freddie only opens the clasp.

“I think we’re done with that for today.” He throws the collar somewhere on the bed next to them, a bit too careless for all the weight Willy and Kappy had ascribed it before, but he doesn’t really care. There aren’t any marks on Kappy’s neck, but Freddie still can’t quite resist the temptation to run his fingers along the freshly uncovered skin, to feel his throat move as he takes a few shaky breaths. “You did really well,” he praises. “You too, you can let go now.”

Willy drops the chain as soon as the words are out of Freddie’s mouth like it burned him, but when Freddie looks at his face he doesn’t look freaked out, just sort of astonished. His eyes are wide and his mouth slightly open as if he needs to make up for lost breaths as well.

Freddie runs his hand up Kappy’s back, satisfied when he pushes into the contact the same way he always does when he’s under. “I think we’re done with the pain portion of the evening. Do you mind undoing those?” he asks with a nod to the clover clamps and Willy complies with only a slight hesitation.

He flinches when Kappy lets out a whine as he detaches the first clamp, immediately looking at Freddie for reassurance. “It’s always that way. The blood rushing back hurts. But you don’t mind, do you?” The last bit is murmured to Kappy, who shakes his head and leans even more into Freddie’s hand running up and down his back, almost like he’s petting him. 

He twitches and makes another pained noise as the second clasp comes off, but otherwise he’s staying perfectly still. If this was one of their usual scenes Freddie would end it here, would be gentle and quiet with Kappy for a bit until he’d let himself be coaxed back to the surface. This isn’t a usual scene though, and Willy had seemed pretty insistent on his plan to give Kappy at least one orgasm, so Freddie needs to adapt a bit.

“We have a couple of options now,” Freddie starts, his voice calm and steady, not disrupting Kappy’s even breathing. “First, we could stop here, do some aftercare, and save the orgasms for a different time.” He has to smile at Willy’s disgruntled expression. “But I figured you wouldn’t like that. The second option is just to bring him off slow and gentle. He’s under now, feeling kinda floaty is how he explained it to me once, but it’s still gonna feel good.”

Willy looks more interested, and Freddie could leave it at that, could just let Willy decide on a way to make his boyfriend come and he wouldn’t have any part in it. He probably should leave it at that.

“There’s a third option as well. Sometimes Kappy likes to work for things, even when he’s like this.” He runs a hand down Kappy’s side, feeling him shiver. “That’s going to be a bit more intense.”

“Yeah, what do you need me to do?” Willy asks, just like Freddie knew he would, and he can’t help but wonder if this is manipulative, if presenting the option he wants Willy to choose last counts as unfairly influencing his decision. He doesn’t linger on it. 

“I want you to put your hand around his cock. And then don’t move it.” Willy looks slightly dubious, but he does it anyway, and his eyes widen when Kappy lets out a happy sigh as Willy’s fingers close around him. Kappy isn’t as hard as he had been during the height of the breathplay, or when Willy had been blowing him, but his cock hasn’t really gone soft either. 

“Here’s the deal, darling,” Freddie murmurs into Kappy’s ear, and the endearment just slips out, his tone not even particularly mocking. “If you want to come, you’re gonna have to do all the work.” His hands slip down to Kappy’s hips, grabbing them gently and pushing them forward, and Kappy moans when his cock slides through the ring of Willy’s fingers. 

His hips move of their own accord on the next thrust, but Kappy lets out a whine when Freddie starts pulling his hands away so he puts them right back.

It can’t actually be comfortable. Kappy’s muscles are doubtlessly tired from the constant kneeling, let alone the tension from when Freddie had taken away his breath. There isn’t anything to decrease the friction either, the spit from Willy’s blowjob long since dried, and it must hurt quite a bit.

Kappy doesn’t seem to mind though. He’s moaning and gasping like he’s having the time of his life, his hips moving tirelessly under Freddie’s hands.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he murmurs into Kappy’s ear and it earns him another whine as Kappy’s head drops back unto his shoulder. 

“Fuck.” Willy sounds breathless, like this is affecting him just as much as it is Kappy, and he must tighten his fingers or something, because Kappy lets out another moan, his mouth dropping open, and comes. His hips move a couple more times as he rides out his orgasm, but then still. 

Without really thinking about it, Freddie presses a kiss to the sweaty skin of Kappy’s throat, and Kappy sighs happily and leans more of his weight against Freddie, apparently determined to use his muscles as little as possible now that he doesn’t have to anymore. 

It’s tempting to give him all his attention and bask in the afterglow with him, but he has another sub to take care of. As soon as he’s thought it he tries to reel the thought back in. Willy isn’t his sub, not really, and probably wouldn’t appreciate Freddie thinking about him like that.

Willy, as it turns out, is busy with clean-up, which in this case means smearing Kappy’s come onto Kappy’s discarded t-shirt. “You know, I could have given you a washcloth for that or something. I’m also washing these sheets, so that would have been another option.”

Willy shrugs, a bit sheepish. “I was going to just lick it off, but I didn’t know if you still would have kissed me after that.” 

The sentence makes something in Freddie’s brain black out for a second, torn between the image of Willy happily licking come off his fingers and the promise implied in that statement. His non-reaction must have lasted too long because Willy is starting to look unsure.

“I mean, I was good…wasn’t I?” And it doesn’t matter that he probably wouldn’t appreciate being called that, in the moment, in this scene, he’s Freddie’s sub, and he’s in need of reassurance.

“You were so good. Better than I could have possibly expected,” Freddie says, a little too honest, too fawning and out of control. It makes Willy smile at him though, before the edge of hesitation return.

“Does that mean you’re going to…?” 

“Come over here.” Willy doesn’t scramble up the bed exactly, that would be too undignified, but he does move fast enough for it to go to Freddie’s head a bit. He’s careful not to jostle Kappy, who’s still half-lying against Freddie, his eyes closed and breathing steady, but clearly not asleep. 

Willy kneels down in front of him, looking indecisive again, so Freddie just reaches for him. He doesn’t know what exactly Willy wants from him, what he would consider a reward, so he just does what he wants to do anyway. He reaches out to touch Willy’s chin, just like he did before, but this time he lets his thumb travel up to his mouth instead of just restricting himself to brushing along his jawline. 

Willy’s lips aren’t as red as they had been before, but they’re soft underneath Freddie’s finger, and warm too when Willy opens his mouth to lick at Freddie’s thumb. It’s too much. Freddie tightens his grip and pulls him forward, pressing their mouths together, finally.

Willy practically melts into it, lets Freddie push into his mouth and bite at his lips, run his hand through his hair, down his back to pull him closer. He makes tiny little noise, maybe a moan, maybe something else, but he doesn’t push back. Freddie wants to devour him, wants press him down and _take_, see if he’ll still be pliant and agreeable or if he’ll push back then. 

Freddie breaks the kiss. He doesn’t want to, but it feels necessary. Willy is panting, and his hair is a mess, and it takes a monumental amount of Freddie’s self control to not just pull him back in. It would be so easy, too, with how close they still are, but Kappy is still lying against Freddie’s side, and Freddie shouldn’t be kissing his boyfriend, not if he wants it this much.

Willy doesn’t seem to share any of Freddie’s inner conflicts. “You know, Kappy is the only one who got off tonight. We could change that.” He licks his lips and stares at Freddie, his eyes so dark they look almost hungry. 

“I think we should leave it like that for today,” Freddie manages, even though it costs him tremendously. 

Willy’s face fall but he recovers quickly. “So, that means we’ll be doing this again, right?”

Freddie resists the urge to close his eyes at the sheer eagerness in his voice. “If you want to.”

“I want to,” Kappy says, and now his eyes are open and clear too. His voice is still a bit hoarse, but that seems to be receding well enough. “This was great.” He stretches, settles down against Freddie a bit more, and his bare skin is warm enough that Freddie can feel it through his shirt. It feels shockingly intimate.

“You want to take over the cuddling?” Freddie asks Willy, who shrugs but slots in easily enough when Freddie untangles himself. They look good like that, pressed together with Willy softly running his hand along Kappy’s back, Kappy looking up at him with adoring eyes. There’s a clear familiarity in the intimacy, a care that Freddie isn’t used to being witness to, and it makes something inside his chest feel hollow.

There’s some rustling behind him when he gets up, but no one tries to stop him when he leaves the room.

He can breathe easier as soon as he’s back in the living room, but it’s not until he’s in the kitchen, pulling ingredients out of his cupboards, that the constriction around his chest eases a bit. He doesn’t make anything fancy, just pasta with some vegetables, but the smell of freshly chopped herbs still calms the rest of his nerves.

The playroom door opening makes him look up, and he’s surprised to find Willy standing there, his brow furrowed. “You left,” Willy accuses, like it’s a problem.

“Looked like you had the situation handled pretty well. I’m just making dinner.”

That somehow seems to make Willy even more unhappy. “If you wanted us to leave, you could have just said,” Willy says, sounding annoyed, so unlike how he usually talks to Freddie. 

“You’re welcome to stay, I’m making enough for all three of us.” That seems to make Willy perk up.

“Is that why you just left?”

Now it’s Freddie’s turn to shrug. “You two looked pretty cozy, I didn’t want to interrupt.” It’s not a lie, but still more of a half-truth. 

Willy’s forehead crinkles again. “You weren’t interrupting,” he says, and it’s a nice sentiment, but Freddie knows his place in all of this. He doesn’t say anything though, just goes back to chopping some carrots, and after a moment Willy takes the hint and leaves.

Or maybe he didn’t take the hint, because he comes back only seconds later, Kappy in tow. “Mind if we hang out here?” he asks, already throwing himself down on the couch, and it sounds like a challenge but Freddie can’t figure out why.

“Be my guest. This is gonna take about twenty more minutes.” That puzzles Willy for some reason, but he doesn’t have the opportunity to say anything more because Kappy plops down half on top of him. He’s put his clothes back on, or maybe Willy helped him, but his sweater rides up when he wraps an arm around Willy’s neck, showing a sliver of skin that makes Freddie want to touch him again. He turns his focus to the broccoli instead. 

“Stop harassing Freddie,” Kappy teases affectionately. “He’s not really into this part.” Willy opens his mouth to protest, but Kappy just presses a kiss to his cheek and smiles, and that seems to pacify him. 

They don’t really talk while Freddie cooks, just lie there all wrapped up in each other, Willy’s hand buried in Kappy’s hair, fingers carding through the soft curls. Freddie keeps his eyes on the food, but he can’t help glancing over occasionally, as if to reassure himself that they’re still there. 

He almost feels sorry when he has to interrupt them.

Kappy makes an appreciative noise when he digs in. “This is amazing, I didn’t know you could cook, Fred. You know, properly, I mean.” Willy gives him a strange look that Freddie can’t decipher.

“Yeah,” he agrees slowly, then seems to pick up a bit more enthusiasm. “This is great.” There’s still something in the look on his face, like he’s trying to figure something out, but Freddie has no idea what it might be. 

Still, their words make Freddie feel warm, some kind of tension uncoiling inside of him, and he shrugs. “We can’t all rely on meal services all the time,” he chirps good-naturedly, and Kappy just sighs in response.

They spend dinner mostly in silence but it’s not awkward or tense, at least not until Willy puts his fork down and looks back and forth between Kappy and Freddie. “So, are we not gonna talk about it?” he asks, apropos of nothing.

Freddie gives him a questioning look. “Talk about what?”

Willy throws his hands up in exasperation. “The— thing! The scene! What we just did! You told me it was important to talk about it afterwards to make sure everyone’s on the same page and stuff.” He sounds accusing, and when he phrases it like that Freddie can kind of see why. 

“It is important,” he agrees. “But unless there are any pressing concerns I’d like for you to sleep on it. Emotions tend to be pretty high afterwards, and making sure you don’t regret anything you did when you’re coming down is an important part of the process.” At least for Freddie it is. He likes being in a scene, likes being in control and likes trusting his instincts to take his sub where they want to go. 

It’s always a bit strange, coming down from that, and he generally needs some distance to evaluate his actual feelings once he’s not playing in the mindset anymore.

“Oh,” Willy says, all his nervous tension gone from his body language. “Well, that makes sense.” There’s silence for a moment. “So...when are we doing that, then?”

“First you need to decide if you both want to talk to me at the same time. It can be easier one on one, but if you’d be more comfortable—”

“One on one sounds great,” Willy interrupts, then looks at Kappy. “No offense.”

Kappy just shrugs, easy and adaptable like Freddie’s used to by now. “None taken. I totally get it.”

Freddie doesn’t, had expected Willy to want Kappy there with him, but he doesn’t question it.

“So, tomorrow?” Willy asks, and Freddie nods.

“You can come over after practice if that works for you.” Willy nods right away, and Kappy takes another bite of his pasta before he does the same.

“Do Willy first then, I don’t mind waiting a bit.” It’s probably a good idea, since Willy is the one who probably most needs to debrief and work through his feelings. Leaving him alone while Freddie and Kappy talk would probably give him too much room to worry.

“Sounds good to me,” Freddie agrees.

————— 

Willy is so filled with nervous energy he’s basically vibrating. It’s distracting, and if Freddie couldn’t drive this route in his sleep he might consider making him start talking already just so he’ll calm down. As it is, he just turns the radio a bit louder, filling the car with inoffensive pop music. It seems to help a little bit, because at least now Willy’s knee is bouncing to the beat of the music, rather than just from his own nerves.

When he finally unlocks the door to his apartment Willy is unusually hesitant, lingering in the doorway instead of making himself at home on Freddie’s couch like he had the last few times he’d been over.

“Okay, come in, sit down,” Freddie orders, and somehow that works, taking some of the uncertainty from Willy. Freddie considers his options, then sits down next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Are we starting the analysis?” Willy asks, sounding nervous again.

Freddie sighs. “If whatever is making you so twitchy is related to the scene yesterday then yes, otherwise let’s clear up the other thing first.”

“There’s no other thing.” He’s toying with the hem of his sleeve again, but at least he’s not biting his lip this time. Small progress. Freddie waits him out. 

“It’s just…” Willy sighs, drops his sleeve and looks up to meet Freddie’s eyes, his expression contrite. “I feel like I pushed you into the whole sex thing and I’m really sorry.”

Freddie blinks. Then blinks again. “What?”

Willy looks down, his shoulders sagging. “I know you agreed to it and stuff but I didn’t want to make it sound like that was condition on doing a scene with me and Kappy. I didn’t mean to—”

“I didn’t mind the sex,” Freddie interrupts him. 

That makes Willy look back up. “But you didn’t want me to…” he trails off, and now he is biting his lip again. Wonderful. “So, is it just me that you don’t—”

Freddie cuts that line of thinking off before he can gain any steam. “It’s nothing like that. I just—” he pauses, looking for the right words. “It’s just new,” he settles on. “Not in general, obviously, but me and Kappy have an established dynamic and…” And he hasn’t quite figure out how his own attraction to both of them fits into that without overstepping some boundaries. “And I’m not quite sure how far I should push on that level.”

Willy considers that. “But you didn’t push at all. I kinda had to ask for, well, everything.”

He looks so earnest, sitting here on Freddie’s couch, genuinely worried that he might have somehow talked Freddie into kissing him, as if Freddie hadn’t been unable to get the feeling of Willy’s lips against his out of his head, like he’d been able to forget the little noise of pleased surprised Willy had let out the very first time. 

“It’s not that simple,” Freddie says, a bit helpless, and that’s a new feeling he really could do without. “It’s different when you ask for something in a scene, because the whole thing is based around you and Kappy following my orders.”

Willy looks confused at that. “But you said we could just say no if we didn’t want something,” he argues, and he’s not wrong but he’s also not getting it.

“It’s not that you can’t say no, it’s that the whole scene is kind of set up for you to…please me.” The word feels strange, sleazy in a way, but it seems fitting. Willy still doesn’t look convinced so he continues. “Look, when Kappy goes under he’d do things he normally wouldn’t just because I want him to. Not everything, of course, but still some things that he’d feel bad about if he actually had time to think about it. I have to make sure I don’t ask anything like that of him.” 

Willy nods, slowly. “Yeah, obviously, that’s good, but— I’m not like Kappy, I don’t...go under. I’m not affected that way.” It’s probably not as true as he thinks. If Freddie asked him at the right moment, used the right words, he could possibly manipulate Willy into a whole host of situations he’d be uncomfortable with later on, even if he’s not anywhere close to subspace.

Still, Freddie tries a different approach. “Maybe not, but I wasn’t really sure what you’re comfortable with. I didn’t want you to do anything you might regret, especially not in your first proper scene.”

That makes Willy smile, soft and genuine, the way he usually smiles at Kappy when he’s done something particularly endearing. It makes something inside Freddie’s stomach flutter unpleasantly. He looks away.

“Well for the record,” Willy breaks the silence. “Next time you can do whatever you want to me. Honestly I was pretty disappointed I didn’t at least get to blow you.”

Freddie chokes on air, tries valiantly not to cough, and fails. Willy grins at him, wide and mischievous, because he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Freddie says when he’s breathing normally again. 

“So, was that the reason you wanted to talk to me without Kappy here?” he continues, and if he expects Willy to call him out on the obvious subject change he doesn’t. Instead his expression gets serious, the grin dripping off his face like water. 

“No.” He takes a couple more moments to gather his thoughts, grabbing the hem of his sleeve again. “When I was in the scene with you, I wasn’t just following your orders.” He pauses, and Freddie waits patiently for him to find the right words. “I was...also doing some stuff you didn’t tell me to do, some stuff I came up with on my own.” He stops again and this time it doesn’t look like he’s just taking a break.

“You did really well,” Freddie prompts gently. “You were pretty creative, and it felt really natural. I was quite impressed.” Instead of being pleased by the praise, Willy folds in on himself some more. 

“Yeah, but that’s—” he breaks off, takes a deep breath. “I always thought it’s like, a character you slip into,” he starts again. “You know when you— when you hurt people. That’s a role, that’s not really you, so it’s okay.” His shoulders hunch miserably, but Freddie just waits for him to keep speaking.

“And I thought,” Willy continues. “I thought it would be like that for me too, right? But it wasn’t like that.” He pulls up his knees, wraps an arm around them to have as much barrier between himself and the world that he can get. “It wasn’t a character, it was just me. And I liked it.” He sounds absolutely miserable. “What kind of person am I if I like hurting my own boyfriend?”

There are multiple ways Freddie could handle this. He could take offense to the last sentence for one, but he gets where Willy is coming from. He could explain that having a sadistic streak wasn’t inherently bad as long as you don’t hurt anyone who doesn’t want it, that Willy’s is most likely incredibly mild, judging by what he’d been willing to do, but that would only fix the issue on a conscious level. Willy is clearly genuinely distraught by this, and that requires a resolution on an emotional level as well. Not exactly Freddie’s forté, but it’s worth a try.

“It’s like that for me too,” he begins, deciding to address that part first. “It’s not playing a role, not really, just getting into a different mindset. None of it's pretend though, I’m just tapping into a specific part of my personality. I imagine it’s similar for you. And when you enjoy following my orders you simply tap into a different part.”

Willy hasn’t really uncurled himself, but his head is raises and he’s looking at Freddie. “And don’t you ever think it’s— You know that it— ” He struggles for the words, probably trying to find a way to phrase this as not to offend Freddie, so Freddie decides to save him the trouble.

“Makes me a bad person?” Freddie asks, and Willy looks down, shamefaced, but nods. “No. Well, I did in the beginning, I guess. But I only hurt people who ask me to, I give them what they want, and I make them feel good, and there’s nothing reprehensible about that.”

Willy still doesn’t look convinced. Freddie puts a hand on his knee, makes him look up again and meet Freddie’s eyes. “I understand why you’re feeling this way, but that’s what the aftercare is for. To reaffirm for both you and Kappy that you care about each other, that you’d never hurt him outside of a scene, that you love him. To reaffirm to yourself that this doesn’t change the kind of person you are.”

That finally seems to have the desired effect and Willy uncurls a bit, one leg dropping to hang off the couch. “Yeah, that’s— Okay.” He seems to roll that over in his mind a couple of times. “But— What about you? You didn’t really stay for much of the aftercare yesterday, and even before, with just Kappy, most of the time I took care of him at home as soon as he was ready to move.”

Freddie forces himself not to fidget. “Maybe I’m just not a very good person,” he says with a smile, but Willy doesn’t return it, he looks upset.

“That’s bullshit though. You’re one of the best people I know.” 

He says it so offhandedly, with so much conviction, that for a moment Freddie can’t breathe. Willy’s looking at him with his earnest eyes, and suddenly it feels like there are no words in Freddie’s brain. “I’ve been doing this for a lot longer than you,” he finally gets out, and his voice thankfully doesn’t sound as croaky as it feels. “I need less reassurance than you. And besides, there are different ways to take care of someone. Knowing I’m sending Kappy home to you is good enough for me.”

Willy still looks a bit dubious, but he nods, accepting Freddie’s explanation. 

Freddie clears his throat. “Should we talk about the actual scene now? What you liked? What you didn’t?”

“I liked all of it,” Willy replies immediately, making Freddie smile again.

“I’m going to need a bit more detail than that if I’m going to plan the next one.” Willy’s eyes light up at that, but he doesn’t answer right away, actually taking some time to think about it first.

“I liked the way you talked to me,” he decides. “Like, kind of showing me stuff and encouraging me? That was good. Also seeing the way you treat Kappy is hot as fuck.” Freddie doesn’t blush. Though his face has a natural inclination for it, he can control his body’s reactions. Or at least he likes to think so.

Willy doesn’t seem to notice anything either way because he just keeps going. “And I liked seeing Kappy like that too. He’s— it’s not like that when it’s just the two of us.” Now it’s Willy’s turn to blush, a familiar sight for Freddie by now, but always fascinating nonetheless.

“What I didn’t like…” He hums thoughtfully. “I mean, you only kissed me, that’s the only thing I’d want to improve.”

Freddie raises an eyebrow at him. “Alright, you want to have sex, message received,” he teases, and Willy grins. He’s at ease now in the way he hadn’t been before, his body open and not one bit protective, like he implicitly trusts Freddie not to ever hurt him, and Freddie feels a tightness in his chest at the display. 

“Yeah, I think that’s it to be honest,” Willy finishes, looking at Freddie expectantly. 

Freddie nods. “Alright, that’s it, then,” he agrees, and Willy’s face falls a bit. 

“You’re not going to tell me what you liked?” he asks, and it hadn’t even occurred to Freddie that he might like to know. 

“I liked the way it seemed so natural for you,” he confesses, probably too honest, but Willy is asking for it. “How I didn’t even need to give you orders half the time. The way Kappy reacted to you. It’s usually a bit harder to get him down, but having you there, you touching him, made everything so much more intense for him. The way you reacted to me.” 

He pauses trying to redirect himself, to not notice the way Willy has gone still and attentive, hanging on his every word. How his eyes have gone dark and intent again.

“I should have been more in control though. Giving you freedom worked out well but ideally I should have been more in charge of the scene, should have planned it better,” he continues, and once he’s started it’s hard to stop. “I don’t usually improvise that much, but with more people involved, it’s difficult to account for everything ahead of time.”

Willy is tilting his head like a curious dog. “Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?” he asks, bringing Freddie out of his spiral. 

“It’s been known to happen. Kinda comes with the job.”

“The goalie job or the—” He waves a hand around, somehow encompassing the whole living room, the playroom, and Freddie himself. It’s sort of endearing how he’s still somewhat hesitant about actually using the correct terminology for what they do together.

“Both.” 

Willy hums, like that makes a lot of sense to him. “Do you think that’s, like, a goalie thing? The whole, being all calm and in control thing?” It’s not the first time someone has asked Freddie that, but the curious, conversational tone still makes Freddie smile.

“I think if you go around asking other goalies if they’d like to tie you up, you might not have much success.” Then again, if it was Willy asking it might be enough for some people to motivate them to find their inner dom. “It’s probably not entirely unrelated though. I like being in control.”

“What, really?” Willy mocks, widening his eyes to a comically shocked expression. “I had no idea.” Freddie kicks him in the shin, just strong enough to jostle him. Willy laughs and it’s...nice, to just be here with him like this. They’ve always been friendly, but they’ve never really hung out before, never had a reason to, and Freddie finds that he likes it. 

Willy isn’t quite as uncomplicated as Kappy, not as open with his desires or dislikes, and a lot more closed off about himself in general, but something about him feels very non-judgemental, like he’s always looking for reasons to like people he’s decided he wants to be friends with, and it’s easy to just be around him.

“Is there anything you’d like me or Kappy to do differently?” Willy asks, bringing them back on topic. 

Freddie’s immediate reaction is to deny it, but this isn’t something Willy just wants to be reassured about, this is something he wants an actual answer for, so Freddie takes a moment to think about it.

“I’d like you to tell me if there’s something you want,” he finally settles on. “I’m not as familiar with you yet, I can’t read you the way I can read Kappy. I won’t always do exactly what you ask for, but I’ll try to find a way to make it happen somehow.”

It’s a risk, being this honest about it. There’s a chance Willy will take it as criticism as opposed to a way to improve an already great dynamic. He doesn’t look like it though, doesn’t retreat or curl up again, even if the hunch of his shoulders shows some possible embarrassment. 

“I’ll try, but it’s...difficult for me,” Willy admits. “I don’t even like asking Kappy for stuff and we’ve been together for three years.” Freddie nods, but Willy isn’t done. “It helps being in the— in the scene, it feels kind of…” he trails off, pursing his lips in thought. “It feels like you want to give me things, so all I have to do is ask.”

For the second time this evening Freddie is struck speechless, some feeling in his chest taking up too much space to leave enough air for words. He takes a breath, not particularly deep, just making sure to re-establish a regular breathing pattern. 

“That’s...good to hear.” His voice doesn’t sound any different to his ears but the words still drag against his throat. “It’s part of my role to make sure you’re comfortable. And I do want to give you things.” It’s too much, too earnest, but Willy just beams at him, bright and happy, and maybe it isn’t too much after all. 

Willy’s phone chimes, effectively breaking the spell. “Kappy’s asking when he should come over,” he announces, and Freddie wants to tell him to wait, wants Willy to stay as long as he can, and feels guilt well up inside him as soon as he has the thought. 

“As soon as he likes. I think we’re done for today,” Freddie replies, and he doesn’t feel done, doesn’t feel ready to let Willy leave already, but he can’t ask him to stay for his talk with Kappy.

Willy nods, smile dimmed. “Yeah, alright.” He types out a reply to Kappy then looks at Freddie a bit uncertainly. “I guess I should leave then.” And it’s another chance for Freddie to tell him to stay, to maybe invite Kappy up with them so they can just hang out for a bit, but he just nods and stays silent as Willy jumps off the couch and goes to put on his shoes. Freddie is slower to get up, unwilling to let the peaceful atmosphere dissipate yet. 

Willy hesitates by the door, his coat still unbuttoned, and looks back at Freddie. “Hey, thanks for, you know, talking me through my...issues.” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up in wild strands, and Freddie can’t help but smile, just a little. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” he says honestly, “and if there’s anything else that’s bothering you, just give me a call.” 

Willy smiles, and then wraps his arms around Freddie and it’s a regular bro hug, the same one they’ve exchanged hundreds of times over the past three years, but Willy holds on just a second longer than usual, just long enough for Freddie to notice how well Willy fits into his arms.

Then he pulls away and leaves, giving Freddie a jaunty little wave on his way out. Freddie closes the door, closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. It’s beyond irresponsible of him. 

Still, the warm fluttery feeling doesn’t leave his chest, no matter how much he tries to breathe through it, so he just gives up, checks his own watch and hopes that talking to Kappy will be easier. 

————— 

Kappy is late, but not by much. Just enough to give Freddie time to set some tea to steep. It’s become sort of a tradition for them, sitting down with a cup of tea while they’re doing the post game for one of their scenes. 

The tea finishes steeping just when there’s a knock on his door, and Freddie goes to open it.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Kappy says, not sounding sorry at all. “I ran into Willy by the elevator.” And now that Freddie’s looking for it, he can see that Kappy’s lips are a bit redder than they usually are.

He raises an eyebrow. “Please tell me you didn’t desecrate my elevator.”

Kappy grins at that. “Nah, man, we wouldn’t. Just kissed him a bit, ‘s all.” He looks very pleased with himself and Freddie can’t quite judge him for that as much as he’d like. 

He sighs. “Just come in.” He turns to get the tea while Kappy strips off his coat and shoes. He’s dressed much more casually today in sweat pants and Leafs sweater, and it’s an obvious choice since he’s coming right from their practice facility, but it still makes it easier to look at him. 

Kappy makes himself comfortable and waits for Freddie to serve him the tea. “So, your talk with Willy went well, huh?”

“You know, the whole reason for meeting with you individually was so I wouldn’t have to share that information with you,” Freddie admonishes, but Kappy just laughs.

“Oh come on, I just saw him, he was practically glowing. What did you do?”

Freddie thinks about it for a second, but he figures it wouldn’t count as a breach of trust. “I just reassured him a bit. Told him he did really well.”

Kappy hums appreciatively. “He did.” He sounds languid and satisfied, like a purring cat, when he says it, and his thoughts seem to taking him far away, judging by the look on his face. 

Freddie nudges him. “Stop daydreaming about your boyfriend. You’re here for a reason.” 

“Alright.” Kappy takes a sip of his tea, then settles on the couch properly, looking at Freddie. “Can I make a request?”

That makes Freddie sit up. “Of course, go ahead.” Kappy doesn’t really make requests. He makes suggestions sometimes, when he’s particularly interested in something, but usually he just tells Freddie what he liked and lets Freddie draw his own conclusions. 

“So, the whole sex thing, can we do that every time? Not that I’m saying you need to let me come every time,” Kappy adds hastily. “But, you know, just making it a possible option without having to talk about it beforehand? I just—” He pauses, looking for the right words. “It was fucking amazing, man. There was this whole new thread of tension and I didn’t know if you’d do anything about it, or if Willy—”

He breaks off, realizing he’s babbling, and looks down as if embarrassed, which is new. Kappy doesn’t really get embarrassed, not by what he wants at least. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” Freddie agrees, before he’s even thought it through properly. There’s no reason to say no, he’s not even really making any promises, just opening up new possibilities. “But you’re going to need to tell me a bit more about you boundaries. Sexual ones, I mean.”

Kappy looks excited, which is strange. Freddie doesn’t usually see him like that outside of a hockey-context. He’s usually either an oasis of relaxed calm, or a whimpering mess when he’s with Freddie.

“Yeah, sure,” Kappy agrees right away. “There’s not really a lot, to be honest. I don’t mind if you get a bit rough with me or anything like that, but I’m not into, like, watersports or anything like that.”

Freddie blinks. “Noted.”

“Maybe nothing I’ll feel for a long time afterwards. Don’t want it to be a distraction during games or something.” That makes Freddie kind of curious about how he deals with lingering sensitivity from their scenes during games, but now isn’t the time to ask. 

“Anything else?” Freddie prompts when Kappy doesn’t keep speaking. 

Kappy shrugs. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything more, but nothing else for now.”

Freddie nods. Given the way Kappy liked his scenes he hadn’t expected Kappy to have a particularly long list of things he didn’t want, but… “I know those are your limits in general, but what about me specifically, what are you comfortable having me do to you?”

Kappy just looks confused. “Anything. I just told you all the stuff I don’t like, the rest is fair game unless I think of something else.” 

Freddie doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know what to say, so he just moves on. “Is there anything in particular you really want?”

Kappy grins at him. “This might come as a surprise you, but I’m kinda into being held down when someone fucks me.” 

“You don’t say,” Freddie says in his driest voice possible, and barely suppresses an eyeroll. 

“I know, right? Shocking. Also I like being hurt, during. Or before, whatever. I just like it when I’m already sensitive and everything feels way more intense and…” He clears his throat and shifts on the couch. “Yeah, anyway. Nothing you didn’t already guess.”

“It’s always good to make sure,” Freddie says, and is glad that his voice doesn’t sound as rough as it feels.

Kappy nods, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to compose himself. “What did Willy say when you asked him?” And he has to know that Freddie won’t actually give him any details, but—

“I didn’t ask him.”

That makes Kappy’s brow furrow in displeasure. “What? Why not? He has, like, way more limits than me. You need to know about that stuff before you do anything with him.” 

It’s cute, Freddie thinks, how protective he sounds. “Unlike you, Willy actually talks to me during our scenes. He’s not gone the way you are, I can just ask him if he’s comfortable with something.” Kappy still doesn’t look particularly appeased, so Freddie tries something else. “If you’d rather I don’t touch him…”

“What? No, that’s not the issue,” Kappy says immediately, maybe a bit fast. He blushes when Freddie gives him a dubious look. “Seriously, watching you two together last time was hot as fuck. I’m kinda disappointed you didn’t let him go further.” 

Kappy’s face does something complicated, but Freddie is so occupied with not reacting to his words that he doesn’t try too hard to figure out what it might be.

“Okay, I think I kinda understand what you mean,” Kappy continues. “But, I just— Willy isn’t like me, he’s…” He pauses and Freddie wonders what he’s going to say. _Fragile_ seems to pejorative, too much like a bad thing, especially in their field of work. _Vulnerable_ is more accurate, but still possibly has some unfortunate implications. _Sensitive_ sounds similarly patronizing in this context. 

“Important,” Kappy finally finishes. Freddie blinks. “He’s really important to me, and I just— I don’t want him to not like it, you know?” 

And Freddie gets it, the desire to make sure Willy doesn’t feel any anxiety or uncertainty, to make sure he’s happy. “Yeah, I get it,” Freddie says quietly. “I’ll take care of him.”

Kappy sighs, lets his head drop back against the back of the couch. “I know. I know you will, I just— I still can’t really believe this is happening. I mean, I always knew he wasn’t into the whole pain thing, and power exchange stuff wasn’t his cup of tea either, and it’s fine! I like him the way he is, I don’t need him to be any different.”

Freddie doesn’t know if he should copy Kappy’s relaxed position, should stop sitting quite so straight and stiff, but Kappy’s words are hitting a weird part of him that he can’t quite explain and doesn’t particularly want to take a closer look at. 

“But now it’s—” Kappy continues, oblivious to Freddie’s inner turmoil. “Now it’s like there’s this whole other level to it, you know? Like, I get to come home to him and just, be together. And I already get to play hockey with him, get to drive to the rink with him and spend so much time together, and it’s so great.”

Freddie shifts, not really comfortable with this level of emotion, but not really sure how to tell Kappy to stop either. 

“And now I get this too. He’s usually so soft with me, and it’s so obvious that he loves me and I love it, but now, when we come here there’s this other part to him, this whole part that I didn’t know and—” He breaks off, takes a deep breath. “I just don’t want to fuck it up, Freddie. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He meets Freddie’s eyes, the look on his face a bit lost and a bit soft and so, so in love. Freddie resists the desire to clear his throat, to look away. “You’re not going to fuck it up.” _If anything, I’ll be the one to fuck it up_, Freddie thinks, but that’s definitely not what Kappy needs to hear.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Thanks, Fred.” He smiles, and that of all things is suddenly too much for Freddie. 

“Is there anything else you want to discuss about yesterday?” he asks, and it’s too abrupt, too obvious, but Kappy seems to take it in stride.

“Nah, except that it was fucking awesome.” He stretches like a satisfied cat, raising his arms above his head then dropping them back down. “I know you’re usually way harder on my body, but mentally it was the same. I was pretty far under, and getting to come when I was already there was great.” 

“Anything you didn’t like?” Freddie asks, not letting himself linger on Kappy’s words. It’s good of course, that he enjoyed it, but otherwise it’s not relevant right now.

Kappy hesitates, and that’s out of the ordinary enough to make Freddie pay attention. “Could I— Could I touch Willy next time? I just, I didn’t really get to this time and…”

Freddie considers that for a moment. “Maybe,” he finally says, and Kappy’s eyes snap to him. “I’m not going to just let you, that’s not really the point of a scene. But,” he adds when Kappy’s face falls. “I’ll keep it in mind, and if you’re being good, maybe I’ll let you. Sounds fair?”

Kappy has to swallow before he can answer. “Yeah. Sounds fair.”

“Good. Anything else?” Kappy shakes his head. “Well, in that case, I’m sure your boyfriend’s already waiting for you at home.” It’s rude, even as far as dismissals go, but Freddie feels terribly wrong-footed. Like there’s something in his chest trying to claw its way free and he can’t deal with that, can’t even push it down properly, while Kappy is still here. 

Thankfully, Kappy doesn’t seem to take offense. If anything he looks amused. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.” He picks up his tea cup one more time and drinks the rest, then sets it down and gets up to put his shoes back on. 

“Alright, see ya around. And let me know when you wanna set up the next scene,” Kappy says, and when Freddie just nods, he snorts and pulls Freddie into a hug. “Take care, Freddie.”

And then he’s gone, walking down the corridor. Freddie closes the door behind him and he doesn’t lean back against it and close his eyes like a character in a soap opera, that’s a step too dramatic for him, but he certainly understands the desire now.

Kappy’s words are still coursing through his mind, the way he’d looked, lying back on Freddie’s couch, unusually vulnerable look on his face as he talked about Willy. It makes something inside his stomach tie itself into knots, makes his chest constrict uncomfortably, but the warmth he’d been feeling with Willy before is still there, intermixing with everything else and making him twitchy.

Freddie doesn’t get twitchy. He can’t afford to. 

He sighs. He’s so fucked. 

————— 

The next time comes sooner than expected, and Freddie can’t deny he’s more excited than nervous this time. It’s not that he hadn’t been looking forward to the last scene, but there had been so many uncertainties, so many boundaries he could accidentally cross. 

Now, things are much more clear. He knows what both Willy and Kappy want and he can give it to them. 

The mood is different right from the start. There are no nerves now, Willy and Kappy trust him, are eager to see what he has planned, and the change is especially obvious in Willy, which is a good thing, given Freddie’s plans for the scene.

“Get on your feet,” Freddie orders Kappy as soon as their starting ritual is done, and Kappy rises up gracefully, looking at Freddie expectantly. Freddie turns to Willy instead. “How about we start with you today?” he suggests, putting a hand on Willy’s back and gently pushing him towards the playroom. 

Willy goes easily, letting himself be guided, and climbs on the bed when Freddie leads him there. Freddie hesitates, considers saying something, but Willy looks up at him so eager and full of trust that he just reaches for him instead, lets his hands slip underneath the hem of Willy’s shirt. 

Willy’s skin feels soft under his hands, a nice contrast to the hard muscles underneath that tense up at the contact.

“I figured you’d be more comfortable with your shirt off,” Freddie explains, pulling the piece of clothing up. He’s not as indulgent with it as Willy was with Kappy last time, not as focused on teasing touches or soft caresses, but he still enjoys the way Willy sucks in a breath at his touch and easily lifts up his arms so Freddie can undress him.

Freddie tosses the shirt over his shoulder rather carelessly. He meets Willy’s eyes. “Do you remember the last time it was just the two of us in here?”

Willy’s breath catches. “Yes.”

Freddie smiles at him. “How about a bit of a repeat of that, for a start?” 

“Yes, that— Yeah,” Willy says, and his voice already sounds breathless even though they’ve barely started. 

“Get me a blindfold and the leather restraints,” Freddie orders over his shoulder, and Kappy unfreezes from where he’d been standing and staring at them. Freddie doesn’t pay him any more attention. He turns back to Willy, and puts a hand on his cheek, gentle. “You’re going to feel so good,” he promises, his voice low. “I’ll make sure of it. All you have to do is stay there and look pretty, yeah?”

Willy swallows once, then nods. He’s leaning into Freddie’s touch, and Freddie briefly debates leaning down and kissing him, but that would be too indulgent. 

Kappy is hovering just behind him, and when Freddie turns back to him he immediately holds out the items Freddie had requested, letting him inspect them. The restraints are the same ones Freddie had used on Willy before, but the blindfold is a different one, more silky and not quite as dense as the one Freddie had wanted. 

“That’s not going to work, he can still see through that,” Freddie says, snatching up the restraints and leveling a disapproving look at the blindfold. 

Kappy fidgets. “Only shapes and stuff,” he mumbles, shooting a nervous look at Willy, and Freddie gets that he’s only feeling protective, but he can’t have Kappy questioning his judgement in a scene.

“If I wanted him to see anything I would have specified,” he says frostily, and Kappy flinches. He turns to get the right blindfold without another word, and Freddie goes back to focusing on Willy.

If he’d been worried that his harsh tone towards Kappy might have upset Willy, he doesn’t need to be. Willy’s smiling fondly, looking at Kappy’s retreating form, his body perfectly at ease. 

“Sit up against the headboard for me,” he says, watching as Willy gets comfortable between the pillows there, and sits down in front of him. He grabs Willy’s wrist so he can secure it and then on impulse presses a kiss to the back of his hand, just to hear Willy’s quiet gasp. He hides his smile as he turns to attach the first restraint snugly around Willy’s wrist. 

“Comfortable?” Willy flexes his fingers once to feel the leather tightening, then nods, and Freddie gets to work on the other restraint. He has to lean over Willy to reach it, and it’s not an uncomfortable stretch by any means, but it has the effect of making Willy’s breath fan out against the underside of his arm. It’s strangely intimate, a bit distracting, but overall quite nice. 

“Okay. Pull?” Willy does, the muscles in his arms straining, but he’s tied up properly with only a bit of slack in the bonds. “Good. That’s good. Now we only need to get the blindfold on you.” He just holds out his hand, doesn’t even look at Kappy, and this time it’s the right blindfold.

Freddie puts his hand on Willy’s cheek again, runs it back through his hair, combing through the soft strands gently. “You’re gorgeous like this,” he murmurs, and they’re close enough that he can feel Willy’s body shiver. “You’re going to look exquisite all tied up and blindfolded.”

That makes Willy blush, but he doesn’t look embarrassed, so Freddie keeps going. “Such a shame to hide your pretty eyes, but unfortunately that can’t be helped.” He lifts the blindfold to Willy’s face and fastens it. “What I want you to do now is just feel, okay?”

Willy turns towards his voice automatically, and even when they’re both sitting down like this he has to tilt his head upwards a bit. “Just focus on what you’re feeling. We’re going to make this so good for you,” Freddie continues, and it’s the first reference to Kappy’s role in this he’s made all evening.

He crooks his finger in Kappy’s direction, beckoning him to come closer. “Kappy’s going to make you feel so good.” 

To his surprise, Willy’s face falls a bit at that. “What about you?” he asks, still blindly looking up at Freddie.

Freddie can’t quite resist touching him again, running his fingers over his face, along his cheekbones, just underneath the blindfold. “I’ll be right here. I’ll be guiding him, making sure he’s touching you right.” It’s ridiculous, of course, if Freddie actually thinks about it for more than a second. Kappy and Willy have been dating for years, the idea that Freddie could somehow know Willy’s body better than Kappy is laughable.

Still, Willy lets out a small gasp, and the tension in his shoulders seeps away again, as much as the restraints allow at least. “Oh, that’s good. I want you to stay.” Freddie brushes his thumb across Willy’s lips, can’t quite help himself, and feels the soft puff of air as he exhales.

“Of course. I won’t go far.” Willy nods, careful not to dislodge Freddie’s hand from his face, and he looks so inviting and submissive that Freddie needs to look away before he ruins the whole plan. 

Kappy’s just standing next to the bed, his eyes glued to Willy’s face like he’s seeing him for the first time. “Get up here,” Freddie orders, and Kappy immediately scrambles to comply, none of the grace from before left in his movements. 

Freddie finally takes his hand away and Willy lets out a small, unhappy sound that drops into Freddie’s stomach like a warm liquid. It doesn’t mean anything, not even that Willy particularly wants Freddie’s touch on him, just that he wants someone, anyone, and Freddie is about to give him just that.

Kappy’s kneeling on top of the sheets awkwardly, unsure how to proceed from here, so Freddie grabs him by the scruff of his neck and pulls him closer, making him overbalance and nearly fall. 

“You haven’t done anything to deserve this,” Freddie starts, his voice cold and serious. “But this isn’t about you. You’ll do exactly what I say, no deviation, no improvising, is that clear?” Kappy nods, quick and eager, and Freddie shifts his grip to his hair instead, pulling back roughly. “Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Kappy gasps out trying to speak through the pain. “I’ll do exactly what you say, nothing else.”

Freddie lets him go. “Good.” It’s a bit of a gamble, making Kappy give up control of this so completely, might make the experience less good for Willy overall, but Freddie doesn’t actually want Kappy to be able to think about it. It’s a balancing act, domming them both at the same time, and for tonight Freddie has made his choice. 

“Go ahead and touch him,” he instructs. “Gently. Just his torso for now. Run your hands along his sides.” Kappy does just that, carefully brushing his finger along Willy’s sides, making him shiver instead of giggle like Freddie had feared. “Down to his stomach.” 

Kappy’s hands are gentle, barely any pressure against Willy’s skin, but Freddie can still see the muscles twitch underneath his caress. Willy’s lips are parted, his cheeks flushed, and Kappy has barely touched him yet. 

“Beautiful,” Freddie murmurs, just loud enough for Willy to hear, and it earns him another shiver. “Now go up to his chest, play with his nipples, but be gentle.” The first brush across his erect nipple makes Willy moan and arch into it, the restraints pulling taut as he tries to get closer. 

“Stop,” Freddie orders, causing Kappy to pull back his hand, and Willy to fall back against the headboard. Freddie touches a hand to his knee, just a comforting touch through the fabric. “No, not you, you can move as much as you want. I want you to. I want to see you enjoy yourself,” Freddie murmurs, his voice soft and inviting. Willy pushes into his touch , pulls at the restraints again, and Freddie chuckles, low and amused.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make Kappy take care of you,” he promises, then turns his attention back to Kappy. “He deserves more than just your hands I think,” Freddie muses, giving Kappy a sceptical once over. “I guess your mouth will do.” Kappy’s eyes immediately drop down to Willy’s fly. Freddie grabs his hair, none too gentle, and pulls him back to eyelevel.

“No. You haven’t earned that yet. This isn’t about what you want.” Kappy’s eyes are watering a bit, but he still nods, like he agrees with Freddie, and Freddie can’t help but be a little pleased by that. “I want you to start here,” Freddie instructs, pointing at a spot on Willy’s bicep. 

Kappy knows better than to question one of Freddie’s orders, but the small pause before he complies tells Freddie all he needs to know. Still, Willy twitches when Kappy’s lips touch the soft skin of his underarm. “Good. Leave a mark.” Willy makes a little noise when Kappy starts sucking, and it’s not a spot that would usually get this kind of reaction, but restrained and blindfolded everything has to feel far more intense than usual.

“Now here,” Freddie says, pointing at a spot on Willy’s collarbone, just at the base of his throat. “Use your teeth this time.” Willy lets out a proper moan when Kappy’s teeth scrape across the bone, and his arms twitch as if he wants to pull them in and cover himself. Freddie’s hand is still on his knee, and he gives him a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he says, the endearment slipping out without his permission. “Just let it happen. Let him make you feel good.” Freddie grabs Kappy’s hair, pulling his head a bit higher so his mouth is resting in the hollow of Willy’s throat and Willy lets out another small noise when Kappy’s teeth drag across the sensitive skin there. 

It works better than pointing, so Freddie keeps his hand in Kappy’s hair, keeps guiding him that way. “Now be gentle,” he orders when he pulls Kappy down to one of Willy’s nipples. “Use your tongue.” The noise Willy makes when Kappy starts lapping at his nipple is amazing, a breathless sort of moan that Freddie hasn’t gotten to hear before. 

“Yes, that’s good,” Freddie encourages. “Are you enjoying yourself?” Willy nods his head vigorously, and lets out another moan when Kappy’s lips drag along his sternum.

“Good, that’s good. You deserve only the best.” He guides Kappy across Willy’s abs, downward until he bumps into the waistband of Willy’s jeans. They must be uncomfortable by now. “Let’s get you out of your pants,” Freddie suggests, but instead of pulling Kappy back so he can work, he presses him down against the fly of Willy’s jeans, making both of them moan. 

“Come on, you can manage this at least,” Freddie chides, holding Kappy’s head in position. He can’t actually see it from this position, but judging by the slight movements of his head and the little noises Willy lets out, Kappy eventually manages to unbutton Willy’s jeans with his mouth. Freddie can hear the metallic click of the zipper hitting Kappy’s teeth, and he pulls his head downward slowly, until Willy’s pants are fully unzipped.

Only then does he finally let Kappy sit back up. “I guess you’ll need your hands for the rest,” Freddie says, like it’s a personal failing and not the most rational way to take off someone’s pants, and Kappy nods, embarrassed. “Well, alright then, make it quick.” 

When Kappy’s hands are at the waistband of Willy’s jeans, Freddie squeezes Willy’s knee again. “Lift your hips for me, darling. Come on,” he nudges gently and Willy does, putting his weight on the restraints to prop himself up. 

“There you go,” Freddie praises when Kappy’s managed to pull the jeans off completely. “Now are you okay with taking this off as well?” Freddie asks, tugging at the leg of Willy’s briefs, his voice gentle. Willy bites his lip, but nods, and Freddie runs a hand down his thigh, soothing him.

“Perfect. I can’t wait to see all of you, darling, you’re so beautiful like this.” It’s kind of terrifying how much Freddie actually means that, but it’s worth the blush coloring Willy’s cheeks, spanning down his neck to his chest. He gives Kappy an impatient look, and Kappy complies instantly, grabbing the waistband of Willy’s underwear.

“Lift your hips for me one more time.” Willy does and Freddie watches with rapt attention as Kappy slips the briefs down his legs, leaving his boyfriend bared before them. 

And it’s not like Freddie has never seen Willy naked before — sharing a locker room makes that all but impossible — but he’s never seen him like this, flushed and hard and practically begging to be touched. It takes Freddie’s breath away.

Kappy doesn’t seem to have the same problem, because he lets out a needy whine, reaching out for Willy on instinct, and Freddie immediately grabs his hair again, holding him still.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out, and watches as the flush spreads even more, turning Willy’s cheeks bright pink, as Kappy struggles against his hold.

“Please,” Kappy croaks out. “Please let me—”

“You don’t get to make demands,” Freddie interrupts harshly, and Kappy stops struggling, his shoulders slumping. 

Freddie’s hand is still on Willy’s thigh and it would be so easy to reach out and touch his cock, to feel the hot, velvety soft skin and hear Willy moan in response. Freddie’s fingers dig into Kappy’s scalp, his grip tightening as his other hand stays completely relaxed. “What do you want, darling? You deserve something special?”

Willy’s cock twitches, so obvious now that he’s completely naked, and he makes another small noise somewhere in the back of his throat before he answers. “I just— Want you to touch me. Either one. Don’t care.” His legs move as he pulls on his restraints again, and he lets his head fall back against the headboard.

Freddie could look at him for hours, watch him squirm under the weight of their attention on him without being able to move, to curl up on himself. That’s not what Willy wants though, not something he’d enjoy, so Freddie swallows the burning intense desire lodged in his throat and gets back on task. 

“I think you deserve more than that,” he says, words slow and deliberate as his hand starts running up and down Willy’s thigh, caressing him. “I want to give you more than just a hand on your cock to make you come.” The muscles underneath his hand twitches and Willy’s legs fall open, causing Freddie’s hand to slide to the soft skin of his inner thigh, and it would be so easy—

“Something more,” Freddie repeats. “Something better.” He releases Kappy’s hair, confident that he won’t try anything without specific instructions. It’s a risk, but a small one, and the alternative would be removing his hand from Willy’s thigh, to stop stroking the warm skin there.

It takes some rummaging around in the nightstand to find what he’s looking for one-handed, but eventually he does and tosses Kappy the lube. “Get yourself ready,” he instructs, and Kappy and Willy both gasp at the same time. 

Kappy sheds his clothes in record time, throwing them somewhere behind himself haphazardly. He’s so much less self-conscious about his nudity, doesn’t care at all about Freddie’s eyes on him, and Freddie would love to watch him, would love to observe his every move as he hastily covers his fingers in lube and starts pushing them inside himself.

That’s not Freddie’s role though, not what Kappy wants from him, so Freddie turns his attention to Willy, who’s getting restless at the sound of Kappy’s fingers pushing up into himself, making soft, demanding noises to get him closer. “Shh,” Freddie soothes. “He’ll be ready for you in a moment. Just relax.”

His hand brushes along his thigh again, one finger almost touching the crease of his hip, so close to where his cock is lying against his stomach. It wouldn’t take much for Freddie to touch, and Willy would probably like it, would appreciate fingers wrapped around his cock before he gets to feel Kappy’s heat, would probably like Freddie drifting down to touch his balls, maybe even lower to prod at his hole, but— 

“I’m ready,” Kappy gasps, and he sounds breathless, his expression tight with lingering discomfort, and there’s no way he actually took the time to stretch himself properly.

“Do I need to do everything myself? Can’t you even prepare yourself properly? Willy’s not gonna like this if you rush it,” Freddie chastises, and Kappy blushes, color rising to his cheeks in blotchy spots.

“Sorry, I just— I want—”

“You want this to be good for him, don’t you?” Freddie challenges, and Kappy looks down, shamefaced, but he does get back to work stretching himself, and Freddie quietly lets out a breath of relief. “Sorry, darling, I just want you to feel good,” he says to Willy, his voice apologetic just for show.

“You could make it up to me by touching me,” Willy suggests, and Freddie laughs.

“I wouldn’t want to spoil the main event,” Freddie justifies, but that’s only half truth. A part of him is scared that he wouldn’t know how to stop once he started, would take too much, read too much into Willy’s reactions and—

It’s better this way. He shoots a glance over at Kappy, can see his arm moving smoothly between his legs, his eyes closed like it’s only pleasure now without any pain or discomfort, and Freddie can’t actually see how many fingers he’s using, but it should be enough.

“You ready?” he asks, making Kappy open his eyes and nod hastily, pulling out his fingers at the same time. “Go ahead then, but make it good for him,” he warns, like he needs to tell Kappy that, like Kappy would have any other interest besides pleasing Willy.

Willy makes a small noise when Kappy grabs his cock to position it, and lets out a proper moan when Kappy sinks down on him in one smooth, practiced motion. 

And it’s not like Freddie hadn’t been aware before that they have sex with each other on a fairly regular basis, but it’s different to see it like this, to see how in sync their bodies immediately are with each other, the way Willy’s hips roll up just as Kappy has adjusted enough to move. The simultaneous moans that leave their mouths are beautiful and intimate in a way Freddie definitely shouldn’t be witness to. 

Still, this isn’t like all the other times the two of them have sex. This is Willy chained up and helpless and Kappy so eager to please he might as well already be under. This is something that Freddie is in charge of, so he puts a hand on Willy’s hip, stilling his movement.

“Hey, it’s alright, you don’t need to do anything. Just let Kappy take care of it, just let him ride you, and make you feel good.” And Willy should by all right just tell him to fuck off, to stop dictating how he fucks his boyfriend, but instead Willy lets out a moan, helpless and obedient, and stops moving completely.

Kappy whines, the way Freddie’s only heard him when he’s all the way down and too lost for the words to beg with, and speeds up. “Don’t come,” Freddie order, harsh and direct. “This isn’t about you, so don’t you dare come.” 

Kappy whines again, but his pace doesn’t falter, doesn’t slow down. Freddie can see his cock, hot and hard and bouncing with each downward thrust, but Kappy doesn’t make any move to touch it, not even to stave off an impending orgasm, even though he must be desperate for it by now. 

“Freddie,” Willy gasps, his voice sounding strained. “Freddie, please.” And his hands are flexing in the restraints like he’s reaching out for something, and his head is moving from side to side, like he’s looking for something he can’t see.

“What is it? What do you need?” Freddie asks, leaning in to hear him better around the moans and the slick, wet sounds of Kappy slamming himself down on Willy’s cock. 

“Freddie, I—” he gasps, throwing his head back at a particularly vicious downward thrust. “Kiss me. Please.”

And Freddie hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t thought about what he might do if asked for something this directly, has no idea how to refuse Willy when he sounds so desperate. So he doesn’t. 

He leans in and presses his lips to Willy’s, gets pulled in immediately when Willy opens his mouth, brushes his tongue along Freddie’s like he’s beckoning him to come inside and take, and Freddie can’t resist that. He buries a hand in Willy’s hair, crushing Willy’s lips to his, and pushes into the kiss like he’s trying to devour Willy, like he wants to make him his own.

Willy makes a noise that gets swallowed up by both their mouths, and then he goes slack, his whole body relaxing, and it takes a moment for Freddie to realize that he’s coming. He kisses Willy all the way through it, answers every movement of Willy’s lips until he stills completely. Only then does he slowly, carefully pull away. 

Kappy isn’t moving anymore either, or at least he’s not thrusting down anymore even though his thighs are shaking with the strain of staying still. He’s still on top of Willy, Willy’s cock still inside of him, softening, and Kappy doesn’t want to overstimulate him. 

Freddie feels an almost overwhelming pride surge up in his chest. Kappy has always been good at following his orders, but to deny himself so completely when he wants it so badly is on a different level. It’s a shame he can’t voice any of that.

“Get off him,” Freddie orders harshly, and Kappy winces when Willy’s cock slips out of him. He kneels down next to Willy’s legs, his fingers digging in the tops of thighs so he isn’t tempted to touch himself, and Freddie wants to tell him what a good job he’s doing, but that’s not actually what Kappy wants to hear, not now, while he’s still pushing himself, so Freddie turns back to Willy instead.

His body is still mostly limp, his arms hanging in the restraints. His cock is softening against his stomach, slick with lube and come, and Freddie wants to reach out and touch, but with the blindfold amplifying everything it might not feel good. Instead he reaches for Willy’s face again, runs a hand down his cheek.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart,” he asks, and he still doesn’t know where all the endearments are coming from but they feel right. Willy stirs, lifting his head.

“Great. I feel great,” he sighs out happily.

Freddie smiles. “That’s good. Do you mind if I take this off you?” He touches the edge of the blindfold, running his thumb along the cut of Willy’s cheekbone. Willy shakes his head, and Freddie untangles the knot, then pulls away the fabric.

Willy’s pupils are blown wide, but there isn’t any tension this time, no burning intensity, and the way he blinks to get used to the light is languid and not seductive. “You did so well,” Freddie praises, and the temptation to lean in and kiss him again is strong, but it doesn’t feel right with Willy smiling softly up at him. 

Instead he starts unbuckling Willy’s restraints, inspecting his wrists to make sure the leather hasn’t chafed or dug into the skin. Of course there aren’t any marks, with the exception of the small bruise Kappy had sucked into the underside of Willy’s bicep. 

Willy’s body is still lax, but some clarity is returning to his eyes. He looks past Freddie and asks, “What about Kappy? Are you gonna let him come?” 

Kappy lets out a small whine at the suggestion, but when Freddie glances over his shoulders he hasn’t moved, his hands still ridgid on his thighs, even though his cock still looks hard enough to be painful. 

“He needs to get cleaned up before anything else,” Freddie says dismissive, and Kappy shifts at the reminder that Willy’s come is still leaking out of his body. 

“Want me to do it?” Willy asks, already pushing himself up to be helpful, but Freddie puts a hand on his chest and gently presses him back down into the sheets.

“No, I’ll take care of it. You should just rest for now.” He grabs one of the water bottles from the nightstand, cracks it open and hands it to Willy. Then he turns his attention back to Kappy and gives him an unsympathetic look.

“Let me take a look at you. Hands and knees,” Freddie instructs, and Kappy immediately falls into position. Freddie nudges him in the side, making him turn until he’s facing Willy, giving Willy a good view of his face. Then Freddie gets behind him.

Kappy lets out a gasp when Freddie spreads his cheeks. Kappy’s hole is a bit puffy and pink and Freddie can see where some of Willy’s come had leaked out and spilled down to Kappy’s balls. He tastes like clean skin when Freddie licks over his hole, with a hint of salty bitterness from Willy’s come and a bit of sweat. It’s not a particularly pleasant taste, but so, so worth it for the way Kappy’s entire body jerks as if Freddie had just given him an electric shock. He lets out a loud, helpless moan.

“Can you come from this?” Freddie asks, pulling back a little to be heard, and he’s expecting Kappy to hesitate, maybe shrug to show his uncertainty, but instead Kappy nods his head vigorously, like he’ll agree to anything to get Freddie’s mouth back on him, and that changes things.

“Good. You can come whenever you want, but as soon as I’ve cleaned you up I’ll stop.” Kappy lets out a whine, full of desperation, but Freddie has said his piece. He presses his mouth to Kappy’s hole again, licks at the edges just to feel Kappy tremble, making him whimper when he sucks, and Kappy’s already been fucked tonight so he’s loose, allowing Freddie to slip his tongue into him with ease.

The taste of come is more intense like this, but Freddie doesn’t mind, not when it makes Kappy whine like this and thrash in his hold, unsure if he wants to pulls away or push closer. 

It doesn’t take long for Kappy to come, and Freddie can feel him clench around his tongue, can feel him twitch and tremble, and he should probably stop, be considerate and ease him through his orgasm.

Freddie doesn’t let up, keeps licking into Kappy, sucking at the rim of his hole until even the last traces of Willy’s come are gone, while Kappy lets out hurt, overwhelmed little noises. 

Kappy’s whole body is shaking when Freddie finally pulls away, but he doesn’t want to let him go quite yet, so instead of letting up fully, he licks a long strip down to Kappy’s perineum to his balls, lapping up the last of the mess.

“There, all done,” he says, wiping a hand across his mouth. His chin is slick with spit, and Freddie isn’t particularly fond of the feeling. Willy’s eyes automatically meet Freddie’s when he looks up and this time there’s no mistaking the darkness in them, the pure arousal there. It takes Freddie’s breath away. 

On impulse, to have something to focus on, he grabs Kappy’s hair and pulls him backwards until he’s on his knees again, then presses their mouths together. 

Kappy moans into the kiss, easily opening his lips to let Freddie in and if he minds the leftover taste of come and sweat on Freddie’s lips he doesn’t let on. Freddie kisses him until he feels calmer, until the persistent arousal in his veins feels less urgent, less hot. 

He lets go of Kappy, who promptly falls to his side, trembling body finally giving way to exhaustion, and it’s so different from the way Freddie usually pushes his limits, but no less satisfying for it. More satisfying even, if he’s being completely honest.

Freddie takes a breath, tries to calm his body and his mind, to stop his thoughts racing, to stop focusing on his cock, constrained in his pants and demanding attention. He’s in control of this, he’s not a slave to his impulses, he’s—

Something touches his thigh and breaks him out of his trance. He looks up to find Willy right next to him, his cheeks still flushed.

“Now it’s your turn, yeah?” he asks, his voice low, and Freddie doesn’t even let himself think about what he might be saying. 

“I’m fine,” he says, and Willy smiles at him, soft and almost angelic and so out of place with how dark his eyes still are, with the hungry stare he has fixed on Freddie.

“Of course you are,” Willy agrees, and his hand is still on Freddie’s thigh, his touch hot and heavy even through the layer of cloth. “But you still deserve a reward.” And it’s strange, to hear something he probably said to Willy before echoed back to him like this, like a promise. 

“You’re not the one giving the orders,” Freddie argues, even though a part of his mind is wondering why he doesn’t just let Willy do what he wants. But that’s not who Freddie is, he doesn’t give up control, doesn’t let others take charge of him. 

Willy nods, like he understands that. “I’m not giving you orders, just asking. I just want to make you feel good Freddie,” he says, and suddenly he’s not next to Freddie anymore, but in Freddie’s lap, a hot, heavy weight pushing down on his thighs. “Just let me make you feel good,” Willy whispers in his ear, and Freddie doesn’t know how to refuse him, doesn’t want to, and so he lets Willy grind down against him. 

It can’t be comfortable, a distant part of Freddie’s mind thinks, for Willy to rub up against the fabric of Freddie’s sweatpants, and his hands automatically move downwards to still his hips. “Let me get these off first,” he suggests. Willy obediently slides off him, and Freddie immediately misses the feeling of his body. 

He could overthink this, could put some importance on the fact the he hasn’t been naked in a scene with Willy or Kappy before, and see this as the last breaking of that barrier between them or something equally dramatic. He doesn’t overthink it, and as soon as Willy presses down against him again, skin on skin this time, his hard cock grinding into Freddie’s, he can’t even be bothered to think further than what is happening right now.

He catches Willy’s mouth again, and this time it feels even better. He can feel even the slight tremor of Willy’s body with how they’re pressed together, can feel the vibration of his chest when he moans quietly, and Freddie wants to put a hand on his throat, feel it there as well, but he manages to restrain himself.

“Hold on,” Willy gasps, breaking the kiss, but he doesn’t pull away so Freddie takes this as permission to keep kissing his neck, sucking on the soft skin there. “I gotta— Fuck, I gotta get ready.”

“Just this is fine,” Freddie murmurs against his throat, his teeth dragging over Willy’s adam’s apple. He reaches down to wrap his hand around both their cocks and gives them a firm stroke, making Willy throw his head back and keen.

“But, don’t you, ah, want to fuck me?” Willy pants, and Freddie tightens his grip some more. 

“Next time,” Freddie gasps, and speeds up his strokes. There isn’t any finesse to it, and it’s not the smoothest handjob he’s ever given, but the leftover lube on Willy’s cock at least makes the slide easy enough not to be painful, and it’s not like he needs to keep this up for long. 

He brings their lips together again, licking into Willy’s mouth and Willy responds enthusiastically, letting out a constant stream of little noises that Freddie can feel more than he can hear them. Willy comes with another loud moan, and the feeling of his cock twitching through his orgasm, the warm spatter of come against his hand and lower stomach push Freddie over the edge as well. 

They stay like that for a moment, still wrapped up in each other and panting, breathing in one rhythm. Finally, Freddie lets go off their softening cocks, takes his other hand out of Willy’s hair and allows him to put some distance between them.

Willy doesn’t at first, stays on top of Freddie, flushed and sweaty and breathless, and it’s no wonder he’s exhausted, he’s the only one of them that’s come two times this evening, but the way he leans into Freddie is more than just exhaustion.

Willy lifts his head and their eyes meet, and Freddie wants to kiss him again, but it feels like the moment has passed.

“Sorry,” Willy mumbles, and then he climbs off Freddie, a lot less graceful than usual, his muscles not quite wanting to cooperate. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Freddie says, a bit puzzled, but Willy just smiles at him and then pulls himself over to where Kappy is still lying, his eyes open and alert now.

“How are you feeling?” Willy asks, brushing a hand through Kappy’s hair as he wraps an arm around him, fitting himself seamlessly against his naked body. 

“Like I want a better view of that next time,” Kappy replies, and Willy smiles again, a bit more mischievous this time and presses a kiss to Kappy’s forehead. The content warmth is slowly leaking out of Freddie, leaving his stomach feeling strangely cold.

“I’m going to make some dinner,” he announces, then shifts off the bed to grab for his pants. He leaves the room quickly enough it could be considered rude, but Freddie doesn’t really care. They don’t try to stop him.

Unlike last time, Willy and Kappy don’t emerge from the playroom until Freddie’s kitchen smells like cooking onions and garlic, and the queasy feeling in Freddie’s stomach doesn’t ease until they all sit down at the table together. 

It’s not gone, but it’s weaker, faint enough to ignore, and as Freddie watches them eat his food he thinks, _This has to be enough_.

————— 

It gets easier after that. Freddie still feels on edge, like he’s playing with fire every time he invites Willy and Kappy over for a scene, but somehow he gets used to the feeling, learns to see it as part of the anticipation rather than possible anxiety.

His treatment of them gets easier, more practiced. He and Kappy already work like a well-oiled machine, but it’s not hard to figure out Willy as well. He likes attention, likes praise, but he likes to earn it. Unlike the snide comments and harsh instructions Kappy likes, he thrives under encouragement, and it should give Freddie whiplash to switch back and forth between deriding Kappy and praising Willy in the same scene, but it doesn’t.

The thing that Freddie hadn’t expected is that they start figuring him out in turn. 

“This is a thing for you,” Willy announces, sounding exceedingly pleased with himself. His chest is moving visibly with how hard he’s breathing and his whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat. Kappy doesn’t even twitch when Willy braces a hand on his chest to push himself up, and if Freddie hadn’t seen him down so many times before, he might have assumed he was sleeping.

“What is?” Freddie asks, trying not to let his eyes linger on the enticing dip of Willy’s collarbone, the flush of his chest. He’s uncomfortably hard, painfully so, but he can ignore that, can still have a normal conversation.

“You know, at first I thought it was, like, a voyeurism thing,” Willy continues, ignoring Freddie’s question entirely. “That you just like telling us how to fuck so you can watch it and that gets you off, but that’s not it.” He moves closer, puts a hand on Freddie’s thigh and Freddie tries hard not to react, to stay completely still.

“That’s not it, is it? You need to be here, within touching distance.” Willy braces his hand on Freddie’s thigh so he can push himself up, can get even more into Freddie’s space that way. “It’s the denial that does it for you. How you could touch if you wanted to and all that’s stopping you is your own self-control.”

His hand is at Freddie’s waistband right now, and Freddie’s throat feels too dry to deny it, to say anything. “So if you’d rather keep denying yourself that’s fine, but if not…” Willy’s hand pushes underneath his sweatpants, his fingers wrapping around Freddie’s cock, and Freddie can’t quite stifle a groan.

“Let me make you feel good, Freddie,” Willy begs. “Please, you always make me feel so good.” And praise doesn’t work for Freddie, not the way it does for Willy, but Willy’s hand stroking up and down his dick, his big, imploring eyes looking up at Freddie through still-wet eyelashes, that does it for him.

Freddie comes with a half suppressed moan. Willy strokes him through it. 

“You’re done with the psych analysis?” he asks, once he feels like he can speak without his voice shaking. 

Willy just grins, completely unabashed as he wipes off his hand on Freddie’s sweatpants. “Like you don’t do the same thing to me all the time.” 

Freddie raises an eyebrow at him, as his breathing is slowly starting to return to normal. “Want me to tell you my conclusions too?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Willy challenges, and there are things Freddie could tell him that would hurt him, would make him get defensive and self-conscious. Something about his need for attention that’s constantly in conflict with his fear of rejection. Or Freddie could pick at his insecurities, his aversion to being too vulnerable, letting someone know him well enough to judge him, and how he still struggles with asking for the things he wants. Instead Freddie just taps his finger against Willy’s chest, light enough not to hurt him.

“You’re a brat.” 

Willy laughs, loud and happy, and Freddie feels the familiar warmth rear its head again, but he’s used to it by now so it’s easy to ignore. 

Kappy makes a noise, something like a groan, and Willy turns back around. “Ah, looks like I’m on cuddle duty.” He’s already wrapped around Kappy, unconcerned with his nudity in a way he usually isn’t, his nose buried in Kappy’s hair, when he looks up at Freddie again. “Care to join us?”

Freddie just shakes his head. They look cozy, inviting, even messy and disheveled as they are, but this isn’t for him. He gets up from the bed and goes to search for a clean pair of pants, and doesn’t spare the two bodies on the bed another glance. 

————— 

Kappy’s legs are dangling off Freddie’s kitchen countertop. Freddie can’t help but glance over every once in a while, but Kappy’s feet aren’t actually hitting anything important, aren’t even leaving scuff marks against Freddie’s counter, so he just lets him be.

“The Kings might beat Tampa,” Kappy announces, his eyes glued to his tablet. 

Freddie snorts. “No one’s beating Tampa, not right now. Vasilevskiy is on fire,” he replies, then goes back to dicing the tomatoes.

“They might,” Kappy argues, but there’s no heat behind it. He’s surprisingly undisturbing, restless leg movements notwithstanding. When he’d first showed up at Freddie’s door Freddie had assumed that he wanted to scene with just the two of them, wanted to lose himself in only pain for an evening to deal with the stress of the upcoming playoffs.

He’d just wanted to hang out though, because he was bored alone at home with Willy off to see a trainer about a persistent twinge in his shoulder. Freddie can’t deny that it’s nice, having his unobtrusive presence in the apartment, even if it’s probably a bad idea.

He can feel Kappy looking at him, but it he doesn’t speak right away. “You know, I thought the cooking thing was just for, you know,” he finally says, not that it’s particularly helpful. 

“For what?” Freddie asks, adding the diced tomatoes to a pot and turning up the heat, not too much, but enough that they’ll start simmering soon.

“For, like, after a scene.”

That makes Freddie pause. “What?”

Kappy shrugs, like he’s not quite sure how to explain it. “You know, after we’re done, Willy stays and cuddles me, and you go make dinner for all of us. It’s your kind of aftercare.”

Freddie stands stockstill while he lets that comment wash over him. Kappy gives him a questioning look. “Isn’t it?”

Slowly, Freddie nods. “Yeah. I guess so.” He still feels completely caught off guard. It’s not like he hadn’t realized that it felt good to...provide for Willy and Kappy, that it had always felt strangely intimate on a level their obvious happiness about the food alone couldn’t explain. 

“So, it’s strange to see you cooking when we haven’t— you know.”

That feels like safer territory. “I do actually cook for myself as well. You just happen to be here today.”

Kappy grins. “Aww, you like having me here.”

Freddie shakes his head. “I barely tolerate you.”

“Liar,” Kappy chirps, and he sounds so happy, that it’s probably best to turn back to his sauce. He needs to cut up the basil anyway.

“You know, if you ever want to join in on the cuddling as well, you’re more than welcome,” Kappy offers, and Freddie’s glad that his back is to Kappy so he doesn’t have to worry about controlling his expression.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he replies, casually, pulling the leaves off his basil plant. They fall back into companionable silence, but Freddie’s calm is gone for the night.

The Kings lose to Tampa in the shootout.

————— 

Clearly Freddie needs some distance, something to make their scenes less intimate, less intense for him.

“How do you feel about using toys during a scene?” he asks Willy during one of their post game discussions.

Willy’s face promptly turns bright red. “Good, I— Positive, very positive,” he stutters out, and it’s terribly endearing. 

Freddie isn’t sure why he’d thought this might help, using impersonal silicone instead of his fingers or his own cock, but when he pushes a plug into Kappy a few days later and spanks him until he’s sobbing, ‘less intimate’ are the last words he’d use to describe it. 

Willy’s eyes look huge and awed, his lips red from how much he’s been biting them, but for once Freddie doesn’t chastise him for it, too absorbed in the picture he makes as Freddie runs a vibrator up and down his cock until he comes from that alone.

Willy’s thighs still haven’t stopped shaking when he insists on guiding Kappy through giving Freddie a torturously slow blowjob afterwards, and if anything this feels more intense than before, makes Freddie’s heart beat fast with things that have nothing at all to do with the sex.

————— 

Auston’s eyes are glued to the screen, his fingers moving quickly on the controller, just like they have been for the past half hour, so there’s absolutely no warning sign before he says, “So, Willy and Kappy have been coming over a lot recently.”

Freddie’s finger slips, and Auston uses his momentary distraction to score on him. The tiny animated version of him throws his hands up in the air and it’s so much easier to look at than the real Auston.

“To your apartment?” Freddie asks, getting ready to take the faceoff.

Auston huffs. “No, here. To yours.”

Freddie thinks about that for a few seconds, in which Auston scores on him again. “We’re friends,” he finally says and he hopes it doesn’t sound as defensive as it feels.

Auston doesn’t pause the game, but Freddie can still see him raise an eyebrow. “Sure.” 

There’s silence for a few more minutes, only interrupted by the artificial cheering of the crowd from the TV speakers. 

“I’m just saying,” Auston starts again. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Freddie pauses the game. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, turning to look at Auston, who finally puts down the controller. 

“Messing around with teammates, that’s...messy,” he says, and Freddie wants to ask him how he knows, but the urge to deny it is stronger. 

“I don’t know what you’re—” he starts, but Auston interrupts him.

“You’re fucking my winger, Fred.” He pauses. “Both my wingers, I guess, sometimes. That’s a terrible fucking idea.”

_I know_, Freddie wants to say,_ I know but I don’t know how to stop_. But he and Auston don’t have that kind of relationship. “It’s fine, I got it under control,” he says instead, and Auston shrugs like he’s at least pretending to believe it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content notes (oh boy): teasing; nipple clamps/nipple play; breath play/choking; collars; sub space; blowjobs; conversations about BDSM ethics and associated guilt; worrying about consent; bondage; blindfolds; body worship; praise kink; hair-pulling; anal sex; rimming; felching; orgams delay/denial; slight overstimulation; insuffiecient aftercare; mentions of sex toys; mentions of Auston Matthews; dom drop.
> 
> If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me on my [writing Tumblr](https://vidrianawrites.tumblr.com/)!


	3. If there's a line, we crossed it

Things do stay surprisingly well under control for a while. The rest of March goes smoothly, and Freddie even manages not to get too visibly overwhelmed by the looks on both their faces the time he talks Willy through fisting Kappy, even though Willy’s awe and Kappy’s overwhelmed bliss stay on his mind for a while.

They have a couple of practice-free days before the playoffs. Technically they’re supposed to be resting, but their nerves are high. Boston again, like the season before hadn’t already been cruel enough. It’s their chance to redeem themselves, or reinforce their own personal demons, and none of them feel much like resting.

Freddie needs to exhaust them, needs to take their mind off the pressure and think about nothing but what they’re feeling for the entire evening. So he pulls out all the stops, finally hooks the electrostim up to Willy’s thighs like he’s been asking for since the first time he heard about Freddie doing it to Kappy.

The current isn’t as strong as it would be for Kappy, but it’s enough to be uncomfortable, enough to make Willy’s muscles twitch and shake, to make him shift and fidget and dig his fingers into the mattress for something to hold on to.

If this was any other evening Freddie would stay close, sit right next to him so he could see every single one of Willy’s reactions, but Willy isn’t the only one who needs to be pushed today.

As easily as Kappy usually goes down, it can still be difficult when he’s feeling nervous. The sensations get amplified differently, he’d explained to Freddie once. Prolonged, constant pain tends to just blend together until he can almost ignore it, push it to the back of his mind, leaving enough room for him to worry, but short, sharp bursts of pain don’t tend to take him down as well unless they’re constant.

There’s a middle ground that still works, though. Freddie has him stand in the middle of the room, orders him to put his hands behind his head and not move them, and then brings out the flogger. He alternates between hitting Kappy and just brushing the tails along his back, putting just the slightest bit of pressure on the reddened skin to hear the way Kappy sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Keep your hands up,” he orders when Kappy’s arms start to shake, the muscles straining as he digs his fingers into his own hair to have something, anything, to anchor himself. 

Kappy lets out a moan when Freddie hits him the next time, but he goes mostly still after that, letting out only small gasps every time the flogger touches his back. 

After five more strikes Freddie pauses and walks around so he can see Kappy’s face. His eyes aren’t closed, but they’re unfocused, and while his arms are still shaking from the strain of holding the position for too long, they haven’t started to sag, like Kappy isn’t even aware of the strain anymore, doesn’t even think about relieving it. 

He even pushes against it when Freddie puts a hand on his arms, pressing them down, and only acquiesces after Freddie says, “It’s okay. You can let go now.

“Come here.” Kappy follows him, his eyes still glassy, but he’s blinking like he’s already shaking it off, and Freddie can’t have that, not today. “Get on the bed. Don’t move, and don’t touch Willy. Just watch.”

Kappy complies easily, and Freddie turns his attention back to his other scene partner. Willy’s whole body is shaking lightly, and his eyes are closed, but they open when Freddie puts a hand against his stomach, just above where the highest electrode is attached. 

“You’re doing so well,” Freddie praises, and Willy lets out a moan that sounds more pained than pleased. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just—” He closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath. “Just a lot. This isn’t at all like what the physios do to me.”

That makes Freddie smile. He can’t help but run a hand through Willy’s disheveled hair, enjoying how he leans into the touch. “Does that mean you like it?” He’s genuinely curious. Even after all the scenes they’ve shared by now, he’s never sure how Willy will react to something new. His desires aren’t as clear-cut as Kappy’s or his own.

“Yeah, I— It’s good,” Willy gasps out, then turns his face fully into Freddie’s hand and groans. 

“Sounds like you need a distraction,” Freddie muses, and ignores Willy’s unhappy whine when he pulls away his hand. It’s replaced by a moan when he presses his lips to Willy’s sternum a moment later. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you,” he murmurs into the sweaty skin, then drags his lips down to Willy’s stomach.

Willy’s muscles are twitching out of his control, and Freddie has to grab his hips to hold him at least somewhat still before he can give him the attention he deserves. Licking along Willy’s abs earns him a moan that quickly turns into a whimper when Freddie’s finger sneak underneath the waistband of his underwear to stroke along the sensitive skin of his pelvis.

“Want me to take your mind off it, baby?” Freddie asks. His mouth is still pressed against Willy’s skin and he can’t see his face from this angle, but the noise Willy makes in response is clear agreement. 

With the way the electrodes are connected Freddie can’t actually pull Willy’s briefs down all the way, but it’s still enough. Willy is all the way hard, so the e-stim must be working for him in that regard. Or maybe he’d really enjoyed seeing Freddie flog Kappy. The reason he’s hard doesn’t really matter, when Freddie wraps his lips around Willy’s cock.

Willy makes a noise, and Freddie’s glad he still has a firm grip on his hips, because Willy’s whole body jerks. “S— Sorry,” he gasps, then moans when Freddie sinks down further, until Willy’s cock hits the back of his throat, then starts bobbing his head rhythmically.

Freddie doesn’t really do this a lot. Most people he sleep with don’t really expect him to be into it, and they’re not wrong, exactly, but that doesn’t mean Freddie hasn’t made an effort to get good at this.

He’s never really understood why some people considered giving a blowjob as a particularly submissive act, because there are few things that make him feel more in control of someone than when they’re falling apart underneath his mouth, and he’s never really seen blowjobs as inherently different from other kinds of oral.

Willy whines in a way Freddie’s never heard before, then lets out an almost pained groan when Freddie pulls off. “It’s alright. Just let go,” Freddie encourages gently before diving right back in. 

It doesn’t take long before Willy comes, and he even makes a valiant effort to warn Freddie beforehand and give him time to pull off, but Freddie doesn’t. It’s not that he particularly likes the taste of come or finds swallowing it enjoyable, but he does love the part afterwards, feeling the aftershocks shake through his partners in the most intimate way possible, apart from being inside them. 

He waits for Willy’s cock to stop twitching, for Willy to start shifting in discomfort at the overstimulation, before he finally pulls off and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Willy’s panting, his mouth open to suck in the air, his chest flushed and heaving with each breath, and doesn’t even try to stop himself from leaning up and kissing him.

Willy certainly doesn’t seem to have any objections to Freddie swallowing, because he licks into Freddie’s mouth desperately as if he’s trying to catch a trace of his own taste. Freddie lets him, for a moment, then pushes back, pressing Willy against the headboard as he takes control of the kiss. 

Willy is panting even harder when Freddie breaks the kiss, almost gasping for air, and Freddie can feel his whole body shaking. 

He turns to the generator and flicks the switch, finally turning off the electric current. Willy lets out a noise way too close to a sob, his whole body slumping as his muscles are finally allowed to relax. Freddie brushes a hand through his hair, lets it rest against his cheek. “I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to let you wait that long.”

Willy shakes his head, makes enough of an effort to open his eyes and look up at Freddie. “No, it’s— it was good.” Freddie presses a kiss to his forehead, a gesture far too intimate for the setting, but it feels right.

“Good. I’m glad. You should rest now.” The fact that Willy doesn’t protest at all speaks volumes to how exhausted he must be, and Freddie silently congratulates himself on taking one of his partners to that point. One down, one to go. 

He pulls the last of the electrodes off Willy’s skin and sets the whole kit on the floor, then turns around. Kappy is sitting on the bed next to them, within touching distance, but not actually touching, just like Freddie had ordered. Just like Freddie he’s still wearing his briefs, his cock straining against the fabric. He’s been hard since the flogging and seeing Freddie suck off his boyfriend, seeing Willy’s face when he came, can’t have helped matters.

There are a couple of ways Freddie could play this, could make Kappy exhaust himself even more with an orgasm as the eventual reward. Ever since they’ve started having sex Freddie’s been able to try out a couple of different ways to get Kappy off, has saved the most successful ones in his brain like an important set of data, but none of them seem appropriate to truly take Kappy out of his head, make him worry about nothing but the task at hand.

Something new, then. Freddie settles back against the headboard next to Willy, and lets out an almost theatrical sigh, his gaze dragging over Kappy’s entire body, head to toe. He lets one of his hands wander down his own body to casually palm his cock through the fabric of his underwear. Even just the small touch feels amazing with how keyed up he is, but he takes care not to let any of that show on his face. 

“Well, that was fun,” he declares off-handedly, then he nods at Kappy. “Make yourself useful and make me come, will you?” He can hear Kappy’s breath catch, even though Willy is still breathing rather loudly right next to him. It’s the first time Freddie has ever explicitly asked for sexual favors, has ever actually made it part of the scene for his own benefit.

Kappy stays frozen for a moment, then he jumps into action. He’s kneeling next to Freddie in an instant, hands reaching to push his underwear out of the way, when Freddie clicks his tongue and he freezes. 

“Really, that’s the best you can think off?” Freddie asks, and Kappy immediately pulls back his hands, letting them drop into his lap helplessly. Freddie sighs. “Go get the lube.”

Kappy rushes to comply, almost knocking over the nightstand in his haste. When he presents the bottle to Freddie, Freddie just scoffs. “I’m not going to do any more work tonight. Do it yourself.”

Kappy’s already pushing down his own briefs when Freddie clicks his tongue again. “You’re not even gonna do me first?” he asks, and Kappy’s eyes widen. Freddie usually doesn’t ask either one of them to undress him. If his clothes come off at all he usually takes them off himself.

Freddie hadn’t really thought that this might be something Kappy would want to do, but the way his hands shake when they touch the waistband of Freddie’s underwear suggest otherwise. Freddie helpfully lifts his hips, then lets his legs fall open when Kappy’s done, putting one hand back on his cock but not stoking it, just touching lightly. He lets out a satisfied sigh, then looks at Kappy. 

Kappy’s eyes are fixed on his cock. He looks transfixed, hungry even, and it hadn’t really occurred to Freddie before that Kappy hasn’t seen him like this a lot. Whenever he gets naked during a scene it’s usually perfunctory, just barely freeing his cock so he could fuck either one of them, or something similar. Kappy’s never really gotten to look at him, not the way he constantly gets to look at both him and Willy, spread out and naked and wanting to be touched.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” he prompts, and Kappy immediately snaps out of it. He pushes his own briefs down with far less care, then slicks up his fingers quickly.

It’s when he goes to reach behind him that Freddie stops him again. “What do you think you’re doing? What gave you the impression that I wanted to fuck you? Didn’t I just tell you I’m not gonna do any more work today?” Kappy’s brow furrows in confusion, he looks from his slick fingers down to Freddie’s cock then back up to Freddie’s face.

Freddie raises an eyebrow. “Come on now. I know you know how to finger someone properly.”

Willy gasps, loud and surprised and right next to Freddie, and he’d love to turn and look at the expression on his face, but his gaze is fixed on Kappy’s. His eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open a bit like he wants to ask a question or maybe argue, or maybe just to breathe. 

For a moment Freddie thinks that he might have pushed too far, that maybe he shouldn’t have sprung something so new on Kappy when he was already this overwhelmed, but then Kappy moves.

He doesn’t rush, just shuffles closer until he’s kneeling between Freddie’s legs, shooting slightly awed, questioning looks at Freddie’s face every once in a while, like he’s expecting Freddie to stop him again, to tell him that he misunderstood, maybe laugh at him.

Freddie just closes his eyes, settles more deeply in the pillows behind him and lets his whole body relax. The first touch against his hole is hesitant just like he had expected, but Kappy must have somehow found the time to warm up the lube a bit because it isn’t cold, doesn’t make him flinch back.

As hesitant as he is, Kappy doesn’t wait around for long. He circles one finger around Freddie’s rim, then pushes in when he feels no resistance. He’s careful but not timid once he’s started, slowly thrusting into Freddie with one finger, adding a second one after only a short while, and Freddie relaxes into the intrusion.

He groans in pleasure when Kappy brushes across his prostate, then keeps hitting it in a steady rhythm. Freddie lets his head fall back and hums in approval, then opens his eyes and turns to the side. “Your boy is good at this,” he comments.

Willy is still flushed, still breathing heavily, and his eyes are wide and fixed on where Kappy’s fingers disappear into Freddie’s body, but he looks up when he hears Freddie’s voice. “Uh huh,” is all he says. His lips look wet, one showing a faint imprint of teeth marks. 

Freddie reaches out for him, brushes his thumb across the marks. “I thought I told you not to do that,” he admonishes gently. Willy just holds his gaze and doesn’t reply. There’s a tension in the air and Freddie isn’t quite sure where it’s coming from. He turns back to Kappy. “Hey, I can take more than this, you know?”

Kappy startles, breaking up his rhythm, his fingers almost slipping out entirely, and Freddie shoots him a disapproving look. Despite his clear eagerness to make up for his lapse in attention, Kappy doesn’t rush. He’s careful when he pushes three fingers back in, and Freddie wonders if this is how he usually treats Willy when they have sex.

“Is he always this careful with you?” he asks, letting some of his amusement show through. 

It’s a bit startling to find Willy still looking at his face. “Yup,” he confirms, easy. “Unless you tell him to hurry up, then he lets go a bit.”

Kappy makes a noise, something vaguely distressed, and Freddie raises an eyebrow at him. “Well in that case how about you hurry it along? I’d like have you inside me some time this evening.”

Kappy makes another noise, too breathless to be a moan, not quite a gasp either, but he does actually speed up his thrusts. It feel good, great even, and the new, faster pace makes heat build at the bottom of Freddie’s spine. His cock is still hard and leaking and there’s no reason he shouldn’t reach down and touch himself. 

He doesn’t give himself more than a couple of strokes, doesn’t want to push his self-control too much, but it still feels good. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says, and Kappy stills instantly. “Now give me your cock.” Kappy pulls out his fingers just as carefully as he’d originally pushed them in, and Freddie rolls his eyes. “Today, if possible.” 

Kappy’s gaze flickers from Freddie face down between his legs and back. “Do you—” he breaks off, swallows. “Do you want me to just…”

“If I have to tell you how to fuck I’m gonna start wondering what Willy sees in you,” Freddie chides, and Kappy flinches like Freddie had hit him. Or, well, no. He didn’t usually flinch when Freddie hits him. 

“Sorry,” Kappy mumbles, then haltingly puts his hands on Freddie’s hips, pushing further between his legs. He sends Freddie one more questioning look, checking to see if he’s actually doing what Freddie wants, and then he’s pushing inside. 

Kappy’s cock is bigger than three of his fingers, or maybe just less pliable. It feels different, is the point, more present, a more insistent pressure, and it clearly feels different for Kappy as well, because he closes his eyes like he’s overwhelmed. It’s no wonder, after the evening he’s had, how long he’s been hard and desperate with no one even touching his cock.

Freddie should probably take pity on him, should wait for him to get used to the feeling, but that’s not really what Kappy wants from him, especially not today. He rolls his hips, making Kappy’s cock slide even deeper into him, and punching a startled moan out of Kappy’s chest.

“I’m not here to be your cockwarmer, Kappy. I want you to fuck me. Can you do that?” Kappy nods hastily and starts moving his hips. He’s still making noises, small wounded sounds like the sensation of being inside Freddie is too much for him. 

It takes him a couple thrusts to find a good rhythm, but the angle is off, not quite what Freddie wants, so he starts rolling his hips again, pushing against Kappy until every thrust sets loose a little spark of pleasure in his stomach. Then he lies back and just takes it all in.

There’s sweat beading on Kappy’s brow, running down the side of his face, and he has his arms braced on either side of Freddie to support him but they’re shaking with exhaustion or tension or something else. He’s clearly pushing at his limits, and he’s still somehow holding on, somehow snapping his hips forward at the pace and angle Freddie wanted him, and if their relationship were any different Freddie would lean up and kiss him, tell him how well he was doing.

As it is, he doesn’t say anything, just reaches down to his own cock, determined to at least not make Kappy hold on for much longer. 

“Can I?” Willy’s voice comes from his side, and it’s not that Freddie had forgotten he was there, but he’d just sort of assumed Willy wouldn’t be up for anything else this evening. He still looks exhausted, but his eyes are bright and eager and Freddie doesn’t know why he would ever refuse him anything.

He nods, and then groans when Willy’s fingers wrap around his cock. It doesn’t take long after that, not with stimulation from both sides, both Kappy and Willy focused on making him come. Freddie gives in, allows himself to feel the pleasure building up with each of Kappy’s thrusts, from the touch of Willy’s hands.

He closes his eyes as he comes. Kappy doesn’t falter, doesn’t slow down, just fucks Freddie through his orgasm, without even being told to, and for once Freddie doesn’t even mind losing his awareness a bit, just lets the feeling sweep over him.

When he opens his eyes the hands on his body are gone. He blinks. Kappy is still kneeling between his spread legs, but a look downward confirms that his cock is still hard, flushed red and covered in lube and precome. It looks painful, and Kappy’s whole body is shaking even though he’s clearly trying to hold still. 

He’s a mess, and Freddie wants to touch him so badly. There isn’t really a reason he shouldn’t so he just reaches out, putting one hand against Kappy’s cheek to make him look up and wraps the other around his cock. Kappy whines, his stomach muscles quivering as he tries to hold himself still.

“Oh, honey,” Freddies says, and it sounds exactly as patronizing as he wants it to. He starts moving his hand on Kappy’s cock, slow and gentle, a mockery of how he usually treats Kappy in a scene. “You could have just said something. I would have let you come inside me.”

Kappy lets out a sob as he comes, his whole body shuddering with it, finally unable to hold on any longer. Freddie strokes him through it, only letting up when Kappy’s body starts to twitch at the overstimulation. 

Kappy folds in on himself like a house of cards, his face pressing into the sheets, and the only reason Freddie’s sure he can still breathe is because he can hear it, loud and labored. 

Something grabs his hand that’s still covered in Kappy’s come, and he looks up to see Willy guiding it up to his mouth. It’s a testament to how exhausted he is, how worn out, that Freddie only feels a light spark of heat at the feeling of Willy’s tongue dragging over his fingers, cleaning up the mess. 

Willy pauses in his ministrations, looking over at Kappy. “I can’t decide if that last bit was nice or really mean,” he muses, and goes back to licking Freddie’s fingers clean. 

Freddie shrugs. “A bit of both, I’d say,” he says and Willy nods in agreement. It should be strange to just lie here like this, all of them naked and spent. This is usually the part where Freddie cuts out, leaves them alone in each other’s company, but his body feels heavy, Willy’s tongue between his fingers is more nice than erotic, and he doesn’t want to move.

“I didn’t know that was an option,” Willy say once he’s finished with Freddie’s hand, letting it drop back down on the sheets and settling into a more comfortable position next to Freddie. He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t really have to.

“Everything’s an option if you ask for it,” Freddie replies, and there’s something in Willy’s eyes he’s too tired to decipher when he looks at him. 

Freddie’s whole body feels heavy and lethargic. The sheets underneath his cheek are soft, and he doesn’t want to get up.

As if reading his thoughts, Willy groans. “Ugh, I don’t want to get up. Going home like this is gonna suck.”

Freddie still feels sated from his orgasm, from a scene done well, and he still feels a little like he’s floating. “Then don’t,” he just says. “I have a bed, you can just stay here.” 

Willy hums in agreement, and reaches over to nudge Kappy in the side with the sole of his foot. “You wanna stay here tonight?” he asks, and Kappy makes a noise in response that could really mean anything, but Willy’s smile suggests it’s most likely agreement. 

They should probably clean up. All three of them are sweaty and sticky and there’s still come drying against Freddie’s stomach. It seems like too much work though. It takes far too much effort to slip underneath the covers already. Freddie can barely keep his eyes open, just spares one last look to make sure both Willy and Kappy are tucked in next to him.

Kappy’s already asleep, his head buried in a pillow and snoring softly, but Willy smiles back at him when he catches Freddie’s eyes. It’s nice, with them here. Comfortable and warm. It takes Freddie barely any time at all to fall asleep.

————— 

Freddie knows he’s fucked as soon as he wakes up. There’s a warm weight on either side of him and his chin is resting on something soft. He does his best not tense up, and he must manage it at least somewhat successfully because when he opens his eyes, the other two are still clearly sleeping. 

Willy’s curled against his front, his hair brushing against Freddie’s lips when he moves to look down at him. The warmth against his back must be Kappy, and from the feel of it he’s half wrapped around Freddie, his arm draped over Freddie’s waist. 

It feels right, in a way, to wake up like this. It would be so natural to brush a hand over Willy’s hair, to wake him with a soft kiss his to his forehead, his closed eyelids, would be just as natural to push back into Kappy’s warmth maybe roll over and press him into the bed, grind down against him and wake him up that way.

Freddie is well and truly fucked. 

It takes multiple minutes to extricate himself from his sleeping teammates without disturbing them but Freddie manages. 

He can’t help but take one more look at them when he’s standing in the doorway, and even asleep they’re already reorienting themselves, already moving into the warm space on the mattress that Freddie left behind. Kappy’s arm is lying on top of the sheets, stretched out as if he’s reaching for someone and as Freddie watches as Willy curls up a bit more, shifting closer until Kappy’s fingertips are brushing against his arm.

It’s like Freddie had never been there at all. He turns away, but the image is still burned into his mind. He’s suddenly desperate for a shower, desperate to wash all traces of the night before off his skin like he needs to get rid of evidence. 

The hot water feels good against his tired muscles, warming him in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d climbed out of the bed earlier. He scrubs a washcloth over his body perfunctorily, trying not to linger on the flakes of dried come on his stomach or the leftover lube stuck to his thighs and ass. 

He ends up staying in the shower longer than necessary, letting the water beat down on his shoulders while he tries to get his thoughts back under control.

It doesn’t work. He let them stay over. Fell asleep with them. Woke up with them, and the sense memory of being so surrounded is hard to banish. It hadn’t felt out of place, is the thing, not at first anyway.

The shower isn’t helping, is only giving him more space to dwell on it, to come up with ways to make it happen again.

He could just ask, is the thing. Both Kappy and Willy have invited him in on the intimacy at one point or the other. Clearly they wouldn’t mind.

Freddie turns off the shower and grabs a towel. It’s not a good idea, would be a disaster in the long term. He knows what Willy and Kappy want from him and he’s happy to provide it. It might be fun for them to keep him around for longer, hang out with him on occasion and sleep in the same bed, but at the end of the day that’s not why they’re here.

It’s not that Freddie minds helping them explore this new part of their relationship, he enjoys it. Loves it, if he’s being honest, the way he gets to be a part of something so intimate, but there’s a clear end goal here. Once they’ve figured out what they want, how they fit together in a scene, they won’t need Freddie anymore.

It’s easy to see how it’ll go. They’ll start scheduling less scenes with Freddie, will scene at home with each other instead and once they’ve found their balance they’ll stop seeing Freddie entirely. 

It’s an inevitability. The only thing Freddie can control is how it ends. 

If he keeps going like this, keeps indulging in their warmth and companionship rather than just their bodies and their trust, it’s going to be a disaster. His pride wouldn’t let him cling where he’s not wanted, no matter how much his heart might want him to. 

His only course of action can therefore be to put some distance between them, as soon as possible.

He puts on a tshirt and sweatpants, doesn’t bother drying his hair properly, and goes to his kitchen to start scrambling some eggs.

Kappy is the first one to emerge from the playroom, and he isn’t wearing a shirt but at least he’s put on some pants. His hair is sticking up in weird angles like someone’s run their hands through the already sleep-tangled mess. He leans against Freddie’s counter, easy, like he was invited.

“So we finally get you into bed with us and you still sneak out before sunrise, huh?” Kappy asks, tone casual. 

Freddie glances at the clock mounted above the door frame. It’s quarter past ten. “Not quite sunrise,” he argues. 

Kappy crosses his arms. “You’re gonna make Willy feel unloved if you keep leaving like this,” Kappy accuses, and Freddie freezes.

He takes a breath, tries not to react in any other way. “That seems like your problem to solve,” he replies, his voice thankfully steady. He pours the eggs into the pan, before looking back up at Kappy.

He’s frowning, looking unhappy in a way Freddie doesn’t usually see from him. “Sometimes I don’t get you, Freddie,” he says. “You were fine with it last night.” 

Freddie takes longer than necessary putting the empty bowl in the dishwasher. “Last night I was just exhausted, Kappy. Nothing’s changed.” He means for it to come out reassuring, but Kappy’s frown only deepens.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the noise of a door closing stops him. A second later Willy walks up behind him, giving Kappy a quick kiss on the cheek. “You didn’t come back to bed,” he mumbles, still sounding half-asleep. His hair is somehow even more of a mess than Kappy’s.

Kappy gives him a quick smile, but turns back to Freddie right away. “Freddie’s being difficult,” he announces, making Willy look over as well. 

“Oh, breakfast.” Willy’s eyes light up when he sees the eggs sizzling away in the pan. “Can I have some of those?”

Freddie raises an eyebrow at Kappy. “Sure. I’m not making all of this for me.” Willy hums happily, then walks over to also press a kiss to Freddie’s cheek. “Thanks, Fred. Do you mind if I go take a shower before breakfast?”

“Guest bathroom’s second door on the right down the hall,” Freddie replies robotically, but Willy doesn’t even seem to notice how wrongfooted he is, just nods and walks back out the kitchen.

Freddie shouldn’t, but he can’t quite help himself. “He doesn’t seem particularly unloved to me,” he says, pointedly, and Kappy huffs.

“Fine, maybe I’m the one feeling a bit unloved.” It would be an uncharacteristically vulnerable comment if he didn’t also roll his eyes, making it clear he’s just being sarcastic.

“Hey, if you wanted me to be nicer to you, you could just take a cue from Willy. He appreciates me making him breakfast. You gotta tell me if you need anything else from me.” The last bit comes out unnecessarily serious, like they’re not just talking about Freddie staying in bed with them. 

The look on Kappy’s face is hard to read. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, then turns and leaves Freddie alone with his eggs.

Willy’s hair is wet when he reappears minutes later and helps Freddie set the table, still in a good mood, and Freddie doesn’t want to ruin it, but he has to talk to him.

“I thought you should know,” he starts, making Willy look at him. “That Kappy and I don’t do any scenes during the playoffs. I’d like to keep it that way with the three of us as well.”

Willy doesn’t look disappointed, like Freddie had expected, but just nods. “Yeah, good idea. No distractions during the playoffs.” He hesitates. “Can we still come over though? Just to hang out?”

Freddie should say no, should stop that sort of idea before it can take root, can flow into something else. “I don’t usually spend much time with anyone during the playoffs,” he says carefully. 

Willy seems to accept that without any protests. “Whatever works best for you,” he acquiesces, then smiles. “Guess we’ll just have to make up for it in the summer.”

Freddie should say something now so it won’t feel quite as abrupt later, should tell him that he isn’t planning on making up for anything, that last night was an error in judgement, an indicator for how thoroughly he’s lost control of the situation, and a final warning that he needs to get out.

“Sounds good.”

————— 

They lose against Boston. It doesn’t matter that they manage to push the series to 7, even have the chance to finish it in 6, to win on home ice, but they don’t. They lose the last game 5 - 1 and Freddie isn’t even in net for the last two goals, but he still feels every single one.

The locker room is quiet afterwards and he’s glad no one tries to talk to him. The coaches make some half-hearted attempts at cheering them up with promises that next season will be better, but no one wants to hear it. 

Freddie feels empty when he finally opens the door to his apartment. The silence that greets him feels appropriate for a few minutes, then it becomes oppressive. He turns on the TV, but it’s not distracting enough, not even remotely, so he turns it off again. 

His thoughts are circling around inside his head, an endless parade of what-ifs. What if the guys had managed to score more goals? What if Freddie had managed to save just one more, could have turned the tide of the game? What if he hadn’t fucked up on the first goal? What if—

There’s a knock on his door, loud enough to startle him out of his spiral. For a moment he just stares at the door in disbelief. He should be wondering who could have the gall to show up unannounced, today of all days, but he doesn’t need to. He knows exactly who it is, knows it down to his bones.

Willy and Kappy look just as drained as he feels. There’s none of the excited anticipation that usually greets him when he opens the door for them, not even the nervous energy of the first time. They just feel dejected, and all the anger Freddie thought he’d feel at the imposition evaporates.

“This isn’t a good evening for this,” he says, diplomatically, because even if he isn’t feeling angry anymore, it’s still incredibly bad form to show up uninvited.

Kappy snorts. “Are you honestly telling me you wouldn’t like to be in control of— of someone right now?” he asks, making all of Freddie’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. “And I just don’t wanna think for the evening,” he continues, his shoulders dropping even lower. “So can we come in?”

It sounds like the worst kind of coping mechanism, for each of them, but it’s far too tempting to refuse. Looking down at them, Freddie feels like himself for the first time since the final buzzer rang out, feels a steadiness returning to him that he left behind on the ice. 

“Come in,” Freddie says, and they should at least sit down and talk first, but Kappy heads directly for the rug to kneel down. Willy still hasn’t said anything, but the way he follows Kappy and kneels down right next to him, head bowed and shoulders low, tells Freddie all he needs to know about his state of mind.

He takes a moment to look at them, to soak in the picture they make. A tiny voice in the back of Freddie’s mind is adamant that he doesn’t deserve this, especially not after the night he’s had, but it’s much easier to tune out now than it had been before.

He takes a few breaths, calm and measured, then joins them, putting a hand on each of their necks. “Get up and follow me,” he says, trusting them to do as they’re told. He hasn’t prepared anything, hasn’t laid out any gear, but he doesn’t really want to use anything besides his bare hands tonight anyway, wants to feel their reactions as closely as he can.

“Stand there, keep your back straight,” Freddie orders, pointing halfway between the bed and the lounging area and they line up there, facing Freddie. He starts with Kappy, because Kappy is always easier. 

“What do you want?” he asks. It goes against his own rules to ask him direct questions in a scene, but it’s only the start and Kappy is still alert and coherent, so he can make an exception.

Kappy doesn’t even have to think about it. “I want you to leave marks. Something I’ll still feel tomorrow.” 

Freddie nods. “I can do that.” Kappy’s shoulders relax at the easy agreement, like he’d expected Freddie to refuse him. Freddie doesn’t feel like playing any mind games today.

He turns to Willy next, and he has to grab his chin and make him meet his eyes, because Willy’s too busy staring at the floor, too caught up in his head to even react to Freddie saying his name.

“And you? What do you want from me?” Freddie asks and Willy’s eyes immediately drop back down, unable to hold Freddie’s gaze.

He bites his lip before he answers. “I want you to hurt me,” he says, and his voice doesn’t shake like Freddie would have expected. He sounds almost aggressive, like he’s goading Freddie.

Usually that tone would make Freddie tighten his grip on Willy’s chin, make him look up again before he answers. Instead he lets go completely. “Look at me, darling.” His voice is soft and Willy flinches at the endearment, but he does raise his head.

Freddie put his hand against his cheek, strokes his thumb along Willy’s cheekbone. “I’m not going to be a tool you use to punish yourself.” His voice is quiet but Willy’s eyes widen like Freddie hit him.

“But Kappy—” Freddie presses his thumb against his mouth, making him effectively stop talking. 

“Kappy likes being hurt. You don’t. He’s asking me to take him out of his head, you’re just asking for punishment.” It feels good being able to lay it out like this. Willy still looks like he wants to argue even though they both know Freddie’s right.

“How about you sit down for a moment?” Freddie suggests, and that’s also not something he usually does. He doesn’t bargain with his subs, just tells them what to do, but clearly this situation warrants a bit more finesse. “I’m gonna take care of Kappy, and then we can see if you still want me to hurt you, okay?”

Willy still looks like he wants to argue, but Freddie gives him a hard look and he finally nods. He sits down in one of the armchairs and slumps in on himself. There aren’t any words Freddie could use to reassure him, nothing that would fit within the scene, so actions will have to do.

“Take off your clothes,” Freddie instructs Kappy. “All of them.” Kappy strips down efficiently, not really focused on making it a show, and for today that suits his purposes just fine. When he’s done he just stands there, naked, facing Freddie with his back to Willy. 

He’s not hard, and Freddie hadn’t expected him to be. There’s nothing arousing about the situation, nothing seductive, at least not yet. He puts a hand on Kappy’s hip and turns him sideways, so he isn’t facing either one of them. 

“Hands behind your head and hold that position.” It’s an open, vulnerable pose, but Kappy takes it easily like he always does, unconcerned with his own nudity or the eyes on him. “Good. I want you to count for me.”

The slap of Freddie’s palm against Kappy’s ass is loud enough to make Willy flinch, another indicator of how much he doesn’t actually want to be hurt. “One,” Kappy says, still calm, and Freddie needs to change that.

His next hit is harder, making his hand smart from the impact but it also makes Kappy gasp before he speaks, so Freddie keeps going like this. By twenty, Kappy’s breath is coming fast, but the slope of his spine is much less rigid than it had been earlier. 

“See how much he likes this?” Freddie asks Willy, who almost jumps at being addressed out of nowhere. “This isn’t a punishment for you, is it?” Freddie asks, and Kappy shakes his head, moaning lightly when Freddie puts his hand on his ass, putting a bit of pressure on the reddened skin. 

Freddie pauses there for a moment, changes position slightly, then starts hitting the backs of Kappy’s thighs. With Kappy standing up like this the impact is much harder, earning Freddie a moan right away. 

He keeps that up for twenty more hits, then stops. Kappy doesn’t move, not even when Freddie walks around him so he can see his face. His eyes are closed, his breathing heavy enough that Freddie can see his chest move, but the only tension in his body is due to holding the position. 

He’s hard now, but doesn’t even seem particularly aware of it, doesn’t shift or tremble, or do anything else to indicate he’s concerned with getting off. Just what Freddie wanted.

“Look at him,” he says, putting a hand on Kappy’s side. “Look how relaxed he is, how good this is for him.” 

Willy doesn’t say anything, just lets his eyes wander over Kappy’s body, his position still defensive. “This isn’t what you want, is it?” Freddie asks, and he’s not entirely sure if he means the serene expression on Kappy’s face or the spanking.

Either way, Willy shakes his head, slow and halting, and Freddie wants to touch him and make sure he’s okay, but he has another task for now.

“You did really well,” he praises Kappy, and feels the muscles under his hand tense in response. He runs his hand down to Kappy’s hip. “And now I’m gonna give you what you asked for.” 

He lets go of Kappy and steps behind him, and he has to lean down a bit to press his lips to the muscle of Kappy’s shoulder, tense from the way he’s holding his arms. He sucks at the skin until it feels warm and tender underneath his lips, then sets his teeth to it and bites down.

Kappy lets out a startled moan, and his arms jerk like he wants to put them down on reflex, but manages to control himself at the last second. 

Freddie holds on a second longer, then lets go to look at his work. He hadn’t bitten hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to leave the teeth marks clearly visible on the bruise he’d made. Next he presses his mouth against Kappy’s bicep, and this time Kappy knows what to expect so he doesn’t move, but the way his muscles tremble underneath Freddie’s mouth is gratifying.

Freddie gives Kappy’s other arm the same treatment, then steps around to his front. There are so many spots he could choose, so many places that would look good with some teeth marks, but in the end it’s not a hard choice.

He kneels down in front of Kappy, and Kappy’s eyes are still closed so he can’t know what’s happening, but Freddie can still see the way his stomach moves when Freddie’s breath hits the sensitive skin of his abdomen. From this close Freddie can see how hard his cock is, how wet at the tip, even though nothing they’re doing is explicitly sexual.

It would be a nice way to tease him. Freddie could wrap his lips around Kappy’s cock and tell him not to come, then watch him struggle to follow the command, feel him tremble as he’d try not to lose control.

There have been many occasions in the past few weeks where Freddie has done something similar, has pushed Kappy this way, but it doesn’t feel right tonight. He can feel Kappy’s sigh of relief or disappointment as he presses his mouth to his hip instead. It turns into another moan when Freddie scrapes his teeth over the bone, and Kappy wriggles his hips like he’s not entirely sure if he wants to pull away or push closer. 

It has to hurt when Freddie finally bites down properly, the skin too thin for it not to, but Kappy just breathes out heavily and then holds perfectly still.

Good behavior should be rewarded, so Freddie wraps one free hand around Kappy’s cock, using the other to steady himself on Kappy’s thigh. “Here’s the deal,” he starts, and Kappy’s breath hitches when he starts stroking his cock in slow, languid movements. “I’m going to keep marking you up, and you’re not going to move. You can come anytime you want, but I’m not going to stop touching you just because you do.” 

He runs his thumb over the head of Kappy’s cock for emphasis, enjoying the extra bit of slickness that gets him. “But don’t take too long either, because once I’m done marking you up, I’ll stop touching you.”

Kappy lets out a whine when Freddie’s grip tightens around his cock, but he nods obediently and his hips stay perfectly still, not thrusting into Freddie’s hand.

Freddie chances a glance over to Willy just to check in. Willy’s body isn’t curled up defensively anymore, his fingers digging into the armrests of the chair instead of curled protectively around his middle. His eyes are fixed on Kappy’s shoulders, on the bitemarks there, and that at least brings Freddie a step closer to figuring out what Willy needs from him tonight. 

Still, Willy isn’t his priority for now, so he presses his lips into the sensitive skin of Kappy’s side, just at the dip of his waist. He licks teasingly, just to feel the slight tremble of the muscles underneath as Kappy tries not to react to the sensation. Then he digs in his teeth. 

Kappy makes a noise that sounds a lot like a moan and Freddie can feel his cock twitch when he bites down. His skin tastes like sweat when Freddie licks along his other side, swiping his tongue across the thin skin covering Kappy’s ribs before moving back down towards his hips, leaving vivid teeth marks in his wake. 

Kappy manages to hold on while Freddie works his way along his side, but when Freddie’s teeth sink into his thigh he can’t take it anymore. He lets out a loud moan and comes, his cock twitching wildly as he spills over Freddie’s fingers.

For a second Freddie deliberates drawing this out. He could plausibly bite his way down Kappy’s entire leg or at least the length of his thigh, and as per his announcement he could keep stroking Kappy all the way through, paying no attention to his pained whimpers at the overstimulation. It feels wrong to push Kappy tonight, would feel more like punishing him than just taking him down, and that’s exactly what Freddie doesn’t want. He presses one last bite into the meat of Kappy’s thigh while he works him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, then releases him.

“Good. You held out just as long as I wanted you to,” he praises, getting back on his feet. He wraps an arm around Kappy’s waist to steady him when he starts to sway, lets Kappy lean into his body, seeking contact, as he guides him over to the bed and makes him lie down. “There you go, darling. Just rest now. I gotta go take care of your boyfriend, but I’ll be right here.”

Kappy hums in agreement, his eyes still closed as he settles deeper into the sheets, leaving Freddie free to look over at Willy.

Willy is still sitting in his chair, but his back is straight now, alert, while he waits for Freddie to decide how to continue. Freddie walks over to the other side of the bed, leaving Kappy lots of space to spread out, then sits down on the edge.

“Come here,” he says. Willy gets up without hesitation, but his movements are slow, not in the deliberate, graceful way that he sometimes moves when he knows Freddie or Kappy are watching him, but almost wary, like he’s not really sure what to expect. He comes to a stop in front of Freddie and looks down at him.

Freddie reaches up to softly touch his cheek. “Do you still want me to hurt you?” he asks, his voice quiet. He already knows the answer, but he needs Willy to say it. 

Willy shakes his head, the movement small enough not to dislodge Freddie’s hand. “No.”

“No,” Freddie agrees, stroking his thumb along the thin skin underneath Willy’s eye. “What do you need from me?” he asks, and he can see Willy tense up again, try to hide away, but he doesn’t let him. “You need to tell me, Willy. I don’t know what you need if you don’t tell me.”

Willy bites his lip and Freddie would have scolded him for it at any other time, but today he lets it go, is willing to give him all the self-soothing mechanisms he might need.

“I— I need you to take care of me,” Willy says, and his gaze wanders over Freddie’s shoulder, taking in Kappy’s relaxed form. Freddie can see how that would be an appealing state to be in after the day they’ve all had.

“Good. That’s a good start,” Freddie says, drawing Willy’s attention back to him. “Come here.” He pats the bedcovers next to him, and Willy sits down, his body angled towards Freddie but drawing back into his own space, holding himself at a careful distance like he’s not quite sure how close he’s allowed to get.

Freddie puts one hand on the back of Willy’s head, running his fingers through his hair in easy, comforting strokes, before he pulls Willy close. It’s a soft kiss, almost careful, and it should feel ridiculous and childish but instead it just feels infinitely tender. Freddie can feel Willy’s body relax under his hand, then loosen even further when he brings up his other hand to run it down Willy’s spine.

“There you go,” Freddie says, almost quiet enough to count as a whisper. He leans back, letting his body rest fully on the bed, and pulls Willy so he’s half on top of him. “That’s good, just relax, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Willy makes a soft noise, something that sounds a lot like sigh, and presses closer to Freddie, trying to catch his lips for another kiss, and Freddie doesn’t make him try very hard.

They stay like that for a moment, just exchanging lazy kisses, being close to each other without an end goal. Freddie reaches out his hand to land on Kappy’s, silently checking in, but when Kappy just squeezes his fingers once and then lets go he takes it as implicit encouragement to focus on Willy.

The kissing is nice, exactly what Freddie needs after a horrible day like this, but there’s still some tension in the line of Willy’s shoulders, and his kisses turn distracted after a while, like he needs more stimulation.

“Tell me what you need,” Freddie says again, and Willy’s body goes tense. 

“This is good,” he replies, then tries to kiss Freddie again, but Freddie grabs his shoulder and holds him off.

“It could be better though. Come on, tell me.”

Willy starts gnawing at his lower lip again, but when they’re this close, Freddie can just press his own mouth there, run his tongue over the bitten flesh and get Willy to stop that way. He pulls away when Willy tries to deepen the kiss.

“I just want to give you what you need,” Freddie says again, meeting Willy’s eyes. They’re so blue up close like this, looking uncharacteristically open and vulnerable. Freddie can’t help putting his hand on Willy’s cheek again, brushing some stray strands of hair behind his ear. “It’s just a fantasy, baby, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Willy’s breath rushes out of him and Freddie can feel the warm gust of it brushing across his chin. “I—” Willy starts, and it’s clearly costing him. Freddie just holds his gaze, waits for him to continue. “I want you to— to tell me I’m good,” he says. There’s color flooding his face and this time Freddie can feel the warmth spread underneath the palm of his hand.

“Of course, I can do that,” Freddie assures, then leans in to kiss Willy again. He’s more forceful this time, taking charge of the kiss and pressing up against him.

It seems to be what Willy wanted all along because he moans into the kiss, his spine going lax underneath Freddie’s hand as he easily lets Freddie bend him any way he wants him.

“Perfect,” Freddie murmurs. “You’re perfect like this, darling.” Willy moans again, pushing closer to Freddie, and sliding one of his legs between Freddie’s thighs. The new position pulls their bodies flush against each other, and Willy isn’t hard yet, but he’s getting there. Freddie can feel his cock against the inside of his thigh.

He breaks the kiss, causing Willy to let out a disappointed whine. Freddie has to suppress a smile. “It’s alright, darling, I just want to get your clothes off. I want to see you.” That sends a shiver through Willy’s body, and he immediately sits up so he can pull his sweater over his head. 

Freddie puts a hand on his waist before can reach for his pants. “Slow down, I want to look at you.” He can see Willy’s chest move when he sucks in a breath in response to Freddie’s words, and it’s not like Freddie hasn’t seen him like this multiple times by now, half-naked and flushed and wanting to be touched, but Freddie honestly doesn’t think he could ever get tired of it.

He hasn’t seen Willy from this perspective either, with him half-perched in Freddie’s lap and waiting for permission to continue. Freddie drinks in the picture he makes, feels almost hungry for it. He could reach out and touch Willy anytime he wanted. He’d welcome it, probably, would lean into it and let Freddie do whatever he wants, but that’s not what they’re going for tonight.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Freddie says, low and probably a note too serious, but Willy straightens up under his attention, letting his hands fall away from his waistband so Freddie can take in his body even better. Freddie puts his hands against Willy’s stomach, enjoys the way the muscles quiver lightly at his touch. 

“So beautiful,” he says, stroking up along Willy’s side. The word choice is a bit of a risk, but Freddie can’t quite help himself. It’s the word on his mind when he sees Willy like this, making himself vulnerable and open for Freddie to look at. Nothing else would feel quite as right. 

Willy doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, preening underneath Freddie’s gaze, underneath his hands, pushing into the contact, and suddenly it’s not enough anymore. “Take off the rest,” Freddie orders, and he worries for a moment that it’s too harsh, but Willy’s eyes are burning when they meet his own.

“You too,” he demands, even as his fingers are reaching for the button of his pants, and he even props himself up on his knees so Freddie has some space to undress. Usually Freddie wouldn’t take directions from anyone, but today he doesn’t see the point in denying Willy what he wants.

Willy’s movements pause when Freddie pulls off his shirt, then shucks off his pants, glad that he’s taken the time to get out of his gameday suit as soon as he got home, that the sweatpants are easy to remove. He ends up kneeling half above Freddie, his pants pushed down to his thighs as he stares down as Freddie’s cock, hard and on display.

Freddie smiles. “Come on, Willy, what’re you waiting for?” That seems to get Willy out of his trance, makes him maneuver around until he’s fully naked as well. They pause like that, just staring at each other for a moment, and it’s not like this hasn’t happened before, like they haven’t been in this exact position before, but it feels different today.

Then Willy slides into his lap and Freddie’s eyes fall shut as he lets out a half-suppressed moan. Willy’s skin is warm against his, and his thigh presses down against Freddie’s cock, making him want to thrust up to get some friction, but he can control himself. 

Willy’s breathing hard but holding still, waiting for a cue from Freddie, or maybe for something else. Freddie’s hands settle on his hips without conscious thought. They just fit there, his fingers spanning across Willy’s lower back as his thumbs dip down to softly rub across his hip bones. 

“What do you want?” Freddie asks, breaking the silence between them. “Tell me, I want to give it to you.” It’s too honest, too open, but he doesn’t regret it when Willy closes his eyes, sucks in a breath like he’s suddenly desperate for it. 

“I— I don’t—” he breaks off, looking down at Freddie with an uncertainty Freddie doesn’t want to see on his face, not ever. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, his voice so much softer than how he usually talks. His fingers are caressing Willy’s skin, brushing down into the dip of his hip bone. “It’s okay. You can’t do anything wrong here.” 

Willy is still just staring down at him, not saying anything, so Freddie does what he does best. He takes control. 

He pulls Willy forward and grinds their hips together. Willy moans when his hard cock touches Freddie’s, and it sounds like it’s knocked out of him against his will. 

“I love having you on top of me,” Freddie says and it sounds like a confession, like something far more intimate than dirty talk. “Love being able to look at you like this.” Willy grinds down again, and Freddie pushes against him, making them both moan at the slide of their cocks together.

“Slow down,” Freddie says, still far too soft to be an order, but Willy listens anyway. “I was thinking you could ride me.” Willy’s breath catches at the suggestion, then stutters out in a startled gasp when Freddie grinds his hips up against him. “Would you like that?”

Willy nods without even taking the time to think about it, to process Freddie’s words properly. “Yes, please, I—” he breaks off. Swallows. “Please.”

Even if Freddie hadn’t wanted it before, he definitely would have now, seeing Willy so overcome at the bare idea of it. He reaches out for the nightstand, fumbles open the drawer without looking and fishes for the lube.

“Can I, or do you want to do it yourself?” he asks, holding up the bottle for Willy to see. Willy flushes and looks down. He opens his mouth, then closes it like he’s embarrassed, so Freddie continues. “I’d love to get you ready, see you falling apart on my fingers. Will you let me?”

Willy nods, shaky and abrupt, like it takes some courage to admit even that much and Freddie feels a warmth blooming in his chest at the display. He pushes it down, tries to ignore it and focus on Willy instead as he slicks up his fingers, lets the palm of his free hand rest on his hip again.

“Good. Sit up for me, darling.” It’s neither a question nor a command, but Willy reacts immediately, raising up on his knees so he’s braced above Freddie, so Freddie can reach his hole with ease. 

Willy’s whole body shivers when he presses a first questioning fingertip to it, but he doesn’t pull away, just seems lost in the sensation. Freddie would love to spend some time teasing him with barely-there touches until he comes apart, but this isn’t the time for that. He applies a bit more pressure and his finger slips in easily. 

Willy makes a keening noise that’s probably more surprise than pleasure, and Freddie doesn’t wait, doesn’t really pause to let him adjust to the intrusion. He seems relaxed enough to take it, eager for it even, so Freddie pushes in further. It makes Willy shift his stance and roll down his hips so he must have made the right choice.

It feels far too long since he’s praised Willy, told him how beautiful he looked in Freddie’s lap and the temptation is there to tell him how good he looks taking Freddie’s finger, but it doesn’t feel appropriate. Instead, Freddie uses his free hand to tangle in his hair and draw him back down for a kiss.

Willy moans into the kiss, responding eagerly and sucking at Freddie’s tongue when he pushes into his mouth. He makes another desperate noise, pushing closer, and Freddie takes that as his cue to push a second finger into Willy.

Willy makes an agreeable noise and starts rolling his hips in time with the thrusts of Freddie’s fingers and Freddie is suddenly desperate to have his cock inside Willy instead, to see him grind and writhe on top of him, lost in the sensation of seeking his own pleasure. 

“There you go, baby, that’s perfect,” Freddie praises and Willy throws his head back and moan, making a show of it, and Freddie might call him out on it if it didn’t captivate him quite so much. “I never want to stop looking at you,” he confesses, and crooks his fingers to get a breathy gasp.

He could keep going like this, could bring Willy off like this, with just his fingers, with Willy doing most of the work anyway. He’d certainly enjoy it, but it’s probably not actually what Willy wants, so instead he focuses on stretching Willy, getting him ready to take his cock more than just making him feel good.

Willy lets out a whine when Freddie finally pulls out his fingers, and he immediately moves to soothe him with a calming hand against his side. “I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t wait to get inside you,” he says, and his voice sounds too soft, too loving. This isn’t even the first time he’s fucked Willy but it feels different with the context, removes all the barriers he usually keeps up during a scene. 

“Come here,” he says, grabbing hold of his own cock to hold it still and positioning Willy so he can just sink down on it, and it’s strange to be in this position, to leave Willy so much freedom in this, but Willy doesn’t make him wait. He sinks down in one smooth motion like they’re used to this, or maybe like they just fit together that well. 

Freddie has to close his eyes at the feeling, the tight, hot pressure all around his cock, Willy’s weight resting on his hips, the sound he makes when Freddie bottoms out. “God, you feel amazing,” he gasps out, lacking any and all control. “I never want to let you go again.”

Willy lets out another wordless moan at that and starts rocking down against Freddie, most likely much earlier than is comfortable, and it doesn’t feel like a scene, doesn’t feel like he’s pushing himself to please Freddie but like he just genuinely wants to get lost in the feeling of Freddie’s cock inside of him.

Freddie grabs his hips, thrusts up into him, turning it from the slow grind of Willy’s hips into something more directed, more rough, and Willy lets out a gasp in response. “What do you want?” Freddie asks again, and Willy closes his eyes, lets his eyes fall shut on another moan as Freddie keeps thrusting up into him.

“I want—” he gasps out. “I want you to want me.” 

Freddie’s grip on him tightens, an involuntary movement, and he loosens it as soon as he sees the way his fingers are digging into Willy’s skin. “I do,” he says, and it’s probably hard to hear over the sounds of their bodies moving together, their heavy breathing, and the slick slide of Freddie’s cock inside him, but Willy opens his eyes to look down at him like he heard him. 

“So much,” Freddie confesses. “You have to know that.” Willy’s whole torso is flushed with exertion and arousal, and he’s hot to the touch when Freddie runs his fingers up his chest, touches his throat, his face. “How could anyone not want you?”

Willy lets out a noise that’s not quite a whine, not quite a gasp and leans into Freddie’s hand just for a moment, then pulls back. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop grinding down on Freddie, but there’s something in his eyes, some sort of tension that Freddie’s never seen there before.

“No, I—” he gasps out, then breaks off, turning his head away, but Freddie doesn’t let him hide. He grasps Willy’s hips and thrusts up hard, forcing another moan out of his throat, but then gentles his approach, keeping his thrusts less forceful, but deeper, turning the movement of their bodies into a slower, more controlled grind. 

Willy lets out a noise that almost sounds like a sob, and Freddie brushes his palm along his side to sooth him. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” Freddie promises, and he can already feel the tight coil of pleasure in the pit of his stomach, but he can’t come before he’s given Willy what he wants, can’t even think about it.

Willy lets out a real sob the next time Freddie thrusts up into him, precise and controlled, and his body folds forward like he wants to be even closer to Freddie. “I just—” He breaks off, sucks in a quick breath, and his voice sounds rough, like the words are breaking apart in his throat. “I want you to love me.”

It goes through Freddie’s body like an electric current, making his breath stutter in his chest, his muscles tense without his permission. He can’t take his eyes off Willy, can’t stop himself from surging up to kiss him.

Willy’s lips open underneath his, his whole body folding into Freddie’s, and Freddie wants to give him everything, wants to have him in any way he conceivably can. He rocks up into Willy roughly just to enjoy the feeling, to feel Willy’s body shake against his, and suddenly the angle, the position, isn’t good enough anymore. 

He flips them over, causing his cock to slip out of Willy before he manages to push back in, more roughly than before, like he can’t get close enough. Willy moans, breaking the kiss, and Freddie props himself up on his arms so he can look down at him.

Willy’s hair is spilling out across the bed, his lips red and swollen, his eyes huge and dark and a bit watery, and Freddie never wants to let him go. “Fuck,” he gasps out, still thrusting into Willy, picking up speed. “I do.” He can feel Willy’s cock rub against his own stomach, hot and hard and slippery. He wants to close his eyes, but he can’t look away. “I love you.”

Willy throws his head back and comes with a drawn-out moan, his cock spilling against both their stomachs, and his body twitches and tightens around Freddie, and it’s too much. Freddie comes like that, still thrusting into Willy’s body, and Willy’s grip on his arms tightens in response. 

He can feel Willy’s entire body shaking when he finally pulls out, and he wants to reach out and steady him but his own hands are trembling, so he buries them in the sheets instead. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, and he needs something to anchor himself, to get back under control.

_Focus_, he tells himself, tries to stop his hand from shaking through sheer force of will. He’s been in much more demanding situations than this, has faced down crowds and opponents and has still always remained the master of his body and mind. It takes a moment, but he succeeds. His hands stop shaking. 

He looks up. Willy is still lying underneath him, his chest moving as he breathes heavily, his stomach smeared with come and his cock softening against the crease of his thigh. He’s a mess and Freddie wants to touch him, wants to make sure he’s alright. And he should, by all means. Should make sure his sub is okay, give him some aftercare, but Freddie can’t make himself move.

He feels fragile, like he might shatter apart if he touched Willy now. Too open. So he just looks at him instead, watches as Willy’s breath starts to even out and he starts moving his limbs again. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and thankfully his voice doesn’t sound as breakable as he feels. 

Willy takes another breath before he answers. “Yeah.” He sounds strange in a way Freddie can’t place until Willy props himself up on his elbows and looks at him. He looks nervous and uncertain, like he’s the one who got too lost in the scene, who took it too far. 

It’s easy to touch him then, to run a hand along his thigh, reach out and touch his face again with the other hand. “Good. That’s good. You did really well.” The line of Willy’s shoulders relaxes, and some of the uncertainty on his face disappears. 

Freddie looks down at his stomach. “Do you want me to help you get cleaned up or would you rather Kappy does it?” 

At the mention of his boyfriend Willy’s eyes flicker over to the other side of the bed. Kappy’s eyes are open, but his body is still lax. He’s not looking at Willy though, his gaze is fixed on Freddie, and from this angle the expression on his face almost looks like awe. 

Freddie looks away. “I’ll go get a washcloth,” he says, and presses one last soft touch to Willy’s hip when he gets up. He doesn’t linger in the bathroom, because he’s not a coward. He does give them a moment to talk though, a moment without him there.

When he gets back to the playroom the picture has shifted. Willy and Kappy are still on the bed, but they’ve rolled over so they’re facing each other. Kappy’s hand is on Willy’s cheek, Willy’s on his hip. It looks intimate. Loving.

Freddie passes the washcloth to Kappy without a word, then sits down on the side of the bed, careful not to touch either one of them. Kappy shoots him a look but doesn’t ask, just starts gently wiping off Willy’s skin while Freddie watches, and Willy closes his eyes to enjoy the gentle care.

“Do you mind if I go take a shower?” Freddie asks when Kappy is almost done, and they both turn to look at him. “I mean, are you okay with taking care of each other until I get back?” It’s superfluous to ask. They’ve done this dozens of times before, but for some reason he still feels like he needs to ask today.

Willy nods, and a second later Kappy follows along, handing the washcloth back to Freddie.

Freddie doesn’t linger in the shower either, even though he wants to. The hot water feels good, chases away the unease in the back of his mind and lets him think clearly again. There’s no reason he needs to treat this differently than any other scene. The content might have been a bit unusual, but in the end he’d still given Willy what he wanted.

Having Kappy there to take care of the aftercare helps, allows him to restore some of the boundaries he’d torn down so thoroughly. Usually he’d have to reflect on this, would have to analyze what made him lose control like this and how to avoid it in the future, but now it doesn’t matter because it was the last time.

He finds Willy and Kappy in a familiar position, curled up together on the bed, Kappy’s arms slung around Willy’s waist as he’s softly whispering something in his ear. Willy’s eyes are closed, his expression serene and it makes something inside Freddie’s chest pull tightly.

He’s going to miss this, is going to miss them, having them both in his space and in his bed. It would be so easy to just let them be, let them spend the night again and not worry about it until the next morning, but if he lets them stay now he’ll never be able to let them go, would find more reasons to draw out the inevitable until it isn’t his choice anymore. 

Kappy looks up, catches his eyes and gives Freddie a wry smile. “Do you want us to leave?” he asks, and no, Freddie doesn’t want them to, but he has to make them anyway.

“I’m not kicking you out,” he says instead. “Today— the scene was pretty intense, and I want to make sure you’re both feeling okay.”

Kappy’s smile gets a bit more crooked, a bit more genuine, softer around the edges. “It’s alright. I know you need to recenter yourself and stuff. We’ll get out soon as Willy feels up to moving again.” Willy makes an unhappy noise at that and snuggles closer into Kappy’s chest. 

Kappy grins. “You did quite a number on him.” He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t mention Freddie’s complete lack of control, doesn’t seem to mind too much that Freddie just fucked his boyfriend like he’s in love with him. Freddie just shrugs. 

They don’t stay long after that, but Willy sends Freddie a soft look on the way out the door. Freddie goes back to the playroom, sits down on the bed and puts his head in his hands. 

The sheets are still warm against his thighs. The loneliness sets in anyway.

————— 

“You know, Stockholm and Herning aren’t that far apart, and Kappy’s staying with me for a lot of the summer. You could visit sometime,” Willy suggests, his voice a bit shy, but not hesitant, like he’s already decided he wants to make this offer and just had to work himself up to saying the words.

They’re technically in public, there’s even media lurking around to report on the locker clean-out and ask them difficult questions about the disappointing end of their season, but Willy has chosen his moment well, had caught up with Freddie in the player’s lounge where no media personnel are allowed. There’s still the risk of someone from the team walking in on them, but making plans for the summer isn’t particularly incriminating in and of itself.

Freddie can imagine it so easily. The journey wouldn’t actually be as simple as Willy’s suggesting, but it’s certainly doable, and absolutely worth it for a few days. It would be more difficult to arrange a scene in a new place, but not impossible, and the way Willy is phrasing it doesn’t sound like he’s just hoping for sex.

It would be nice to be able to see them in the summer, relaxed and happy, just spending time together in the sun, maybe go swimming, or just walking through Stockholm like they were all on vacation together. 

Freddie’s chest feels warm just thinking about it, and this is already out of control. After the night before, there’s no doubt about that. Freddie has lost all boundaries he ever claimed to have with them, has let both of them into his bed and into his heart, when they never even wanted this from him.

The only thing left for him to do is tear it all down, violently, with no chance to rebuild, so that they can at least stay teammates, keep working together and seeing each other at the rink without any hard feelings.

It’s hard, but it’s necessary. He has to do it. He should do it now.

_But maybe some distance would be enough_, a voice in the back of his mind whispers. Maybe the feelings will go away, maybe he’ll get over it when he doesn’t have to see them so much, has some space.

It’s a fool’s hope, completely ridiculous, and Freddie shouldn’t allow himself to be that naive.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, and it’s not the clear refusal he so clearly needs to get out, but it makes Willy smile, a tiny, hopeful, beautiful thing, and there’s really nothing else Freddie could have possibly said.

————— 

Freddie goes back to Denmark. It’s good to be home, even if it’s only temporary. Good to be with his family, see some of his old friends. He gets invited to go to Worlds, but declines, the long season still too deep in his bones.

He watches Willy play and score his way through May, and briefly considers texting him, just a little acknowledgement, a bit of recognition, but they don’t really have that sort of relationship. They don’t really have any relationship except being teammates. Teammates who sometimes scene together and have sex. 

Willy already has a boyfriend who is probably texting him to tell him how well he’s doing. _Or chirping him_, Freddie amends when Sweden loses to Finland in the quarterfinal. Either way, it’s not Freddie’s place. 

It’s halfway into June when Willy texts him the first time, just friendly smalltalk to see how he’s doing. Freddie’s replies are a bit stilted, a bit cold, and it’s much easier to talk to Willy this way when he doesn’t have to see him face to face.

Freddie never texts him first, never initiates any sort of contact, but Willy doesn’t get discouraged, keeps asking about Freddie’s day, asks him if he wants to come visit. He sends Freddie pictures as well, mostly selfies, but never anything suggestive, nothing he wouldn’t also post on his instagram. 

Kappy’s a bit more reserved in terms of the sheer volume of his texts, but the first message Freddie gets from him is a photo of Kappy’s plane ticket to Stockholm, date clearly visible, and a question mark, so in a way he’s also a lot more direct.

_No sceneing during the off-season_, Freddie sends back, fully prepared to go into a full explanation of how this is the time for his mind to rest and recharge, how he avoids anything that requires him to be completely focused, but he doesn’t have to.

_Come anyway_, Kappy sends back, and then after a moment, _We miss you._

Freddie stares down at his phone. The temptation is strong. He could book a flight, wouldn’t even have to drive too far to get to the airport. 

_You’ll be fine without me_, he texts back instead. 

_Better with you tho_, Kappy’s reply comes almost instantly, and Freddie doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just puts down his phone and decides to go make himself some lunch. 

June bleeds into July, and Willy keeps texting him, keeps making hopeful suggestions that Freddie should come visit them. Freddie should do more to discourage them, but not responding feels wrong, and dropping hints that their arrangement is over by text is worse, so he doesn’t.

By August Willy’s invitations stop, and Freddie doesn’t know if he’s given up or if he’s lost interest, or if he’s simply content with seeing Freddie again during training camp. 

_When are you back in TO?_ comes sometime towards the end of August, and Freddie’s flights are booked, the housekeeping for his apartment taken care of. Everything is planned and prepared for his arrival, but actually sending Willy the exact date would give off the wrong impression. That Freddie’s eager to see him, which isn’t untrue so much as just a problem. That they’ll meet up as soon as they’re all back in Toronto, which is partially true, but not for the reason Willy might think.

_Not sure yet_ he sends back and Willy seems to accept that as the dismissal it is, because he stops asking.

The beginning of September comes and goes, and then Freddie is in Canada. They don’t actually spend a lot of time in Toronto at first, with the official start of their training camp set in Newfoundland this year, and neither Willy nor Kappy seek him out. They don’t treat him any different than their other teammates, with the exception of a few subtle glances, a couple of extra smiles.

It’s good, that they’re able to maintain this level of professionalism when they need to, makes Freddie hopeful that the end of their arrangement won’t put a strain on their working relationship.

The desire to draw this out as long as he possibly can is strong, but Freddie invites them both over to his apartment as soon as they get back to Toronto. 

Despite the distance over the summer, seeing them standing in his doorway, eager and excited, still makes his heart beat faster. 

“Let’s sit down,” is the first thing Freddie says before they’re even through the door, just in case. “We need to talk.”

“What, are you breaking up with us?” Kappy jokes when they’re all sitting down, Willy and Kappy on the couch and Freddie in the armchair. Freddie tries his best not to react. 

“I can’t break up with you. We’re not dating,” Freddie replies, and it must come out more harsh than he intended because Willy’s brow furrows.

“Yeah, I know.” He sounds a lot more distant than usual, a bit reserved, and Freddie’s instinct is to try to figure out what’s wrong, try to make him relax before they do anything else, but maybe today a bit more distance is a good thing.

“I think it would be for the best if we stopped this...arrangement,” Freddie says, and he makes an effort not to look away, to meet each of their eyes in turn. 

Willy reacts by retreating back into himself, his shoulders curling down defensively, and Freddie want to reach out and reassure him that none of this is his fault, that he didn’t do anything wrong. That Freddie’s the one who messed up, who can’t handle this. He digs his fingers into the fabric of his pants instead.

Kappy isn’t retreating. Kappy looks angry. “Arrangement?” he repeats, sounding incredulous. “Not dating, fine. But arrangement?”

“Call it whatever you like. The point is, I can’t do this anymore.” Freddie’s tone is calm, reasonable, but it only seems to enrage Kappy further.

“That’s it? You can’t do this anymore? That’s all we get?” He crosses his arms over his chest, but for all that it’s a defensive gesture it only makes him look more combative.

“Do I really need to say anything more?” Freddie asks, and his voice is cold but Kappy ignores the warning.

“Really? We’ve been doing this for months and we don’t even get a reason? You know, it was bad enough that you never told us what you wanted, that you keep everything so close to your chest that I never even knew what would be too much, what would make you leave again. And now it’s suddenly all too much for you and you won’t even tell us—”

“Kappy, stop!” Kappy’s mouth snaps shut instantly, even though he clearly wants to keep talking, and it’s not that Freddie had particularly wanted him to keep going, but hearing Willy lash out like that still catches him completely off guard. “He doesn’t have to say anything if he doesn’t want to,” Willy continues, much quieter.

He’s not looking at either one of them, has his arms wrapped protectively around his torso, and it makes Freddie’s chest ache that he’s to blame for it.

Kappy doesn’t reach out to him like Freddie would have expected, too caught up in his own anger. He shoots Freddie a dark look. “Fine,” he spits. “Fine, don’t fucking tell us anything. Not like I really expected better.”

It stings, just like it’s supposed to, but Freddie doesn’t let any of that show on his face, just raises an eyebrow. 

Kappy snorts and it could almost be a laugh, if it didn’t lack any and all warmth. “Yeah. Alright. I’m outta here.” He’s already halfway out the door when he turns back to Willy. “You coming?” 

Willy’s still slumped on Freddie’s couch, looks like he wants to melt into it and disappear, but he nods, even he has to take a deep breath before he manages to gets to his feet. He doesn’t look at Freddie, doesn’t say anything, even though he looks like he wants to.

They go without a goodbye and when the door slams shut, they leave behind only silence. Freddie closes his eyes, takes a slow, measured breath, then another one. The hollow feeling in his chest remains. When he opens his eyes his apartment still feels more empty than when he’d first moved in.

————— 

They start avoiding him. It shouldn’t be obvious, they’d never really spent much time together before anyway, especially not at practice. Freddie tends to work with the other goalies most of all.

It’s still noticeable. Willy won’t even look at him when they’re in the locker room together, and Kappy goes as far as turning his back to Freddie whenever he conceivably can.

They don’t act any differently out on the ice, so Freddie wouldn’t say they’re being unprofessional, exactly, but it still throws him off more than it should. 

Auston takes one look at Kappy’s retreating back, at Willy’s bowed head, and sends Freddie a sympathetic glance. He doesn’t say anything, and Freddie wouldn’t have known how to react if he had. As it is, he still mostly feels sort of empty.

The feeling lasts a week, then two, and it’s starting to mess with Freddie’s head, makes him miss easy saves and ruins his meditation. The cynical part of him can’t help but be grateful that he hadn’t broken up with them during the season.

The most reasonable course of action would be to go out and find someone else. A good, old-fashioned rebound. Freddie’s chest hurts at the thought of it. 

It would be so much easier if he just missed the sex, if he’d ended things because they were the ones pushing too much. This way he has no one but himself to blame and no idea how to even start getting over it. 

Maybe it’s good that they’re angry at Freddie. It would be so much worse if they didn’t care.

Freddie’s exhausted when he comes back to his apartment, doesn’t pay any attention on his way through the lobby and in the elevator. He makes it almost all the way to his door before he notices someone standing in front of it.

Kappy straightens up when Freddie looks at him, but he doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow.

There are things Freddie should probably do. Apologize maybe, for his harshness in their last conversation, or for stringing them along for so long. For not being more honest. “What are you doing here?” he asks instead.

Kappy huffs, a bit like he’s amused but sharper. “Hi, Freddie. It’s good to see you, too.” 

“You’d see me more often if you didn’t run away every time I walk into a room,” Freddie shoots back, and this is all wrong. He should be making an attempt to mend things, to make it right, but Freddie has always been better at being angry than at being hurt. 

Kappy makes another noise that could be amused if it didn’t sound quite so derisive. “Yeah, well. I figured we should talk.”

“Alone.” Kappy shrugs, and it’s not like Freddie had expected either one of them to show up at his place, but the fact that Willy isn’t here tells him enough about what kind of conversation this is going to be. “What makes you think I want to talk to you?”

For the first time, Kappy drops the casual tone. “Willy is fucking devastated and it’s your fault, so the least you can do is talk to me.” He sounds angry, but there’s a tremor underneath his voice, something scared and vulnerable.

It hits Freddie harder than it should; turns out it’s easier for him to deal with making someone else angry than hurting them. The accusation still makes something inside of him rebel, makes him straighten his shoulders, ready to go on the offensive. He’s learning all kinds of things about himself today.

“Is it?” he asks, voice cold as he unlocks the door. Either way, this isn’t a conversation that needs to happen in the hallway. “My fault, I mean.” 

Kappy pushes past him and throws himself down on the couch, not even taking off his jacket which Freddie assumes is so he can storm out dramatically whenever he feels like it. 

He doesn’t speak until Freddie closes the door behind them. “You can’t pull shit like that with Willy.” He sounds angry, but like he’s trying to control it, even though he’s not very successful. “You can’t tell Willy you love him and then just fucking disappear from his life.”

Freddie pauses, halfway out of his coat. He finishes taking it off before he answers. “It was part of a scene, Kappy. He knows how scenes work. I was just giving him what he wanted.” It’s the truth just as much as it’s one of the most bold-faced lies Freddie has ever told. 

“Yeah, no, that’s bullshit.” Freddie tenses at that, but relaxes once Kappy continues. “He’s not like us. He can’t just feel one thing in a scene and then stop when it’s over, it doesn’t work like that for him.” 

Freddie tries to breathe evenly. It’s surprisingly hard with all the emotions whirring around in his chest. “That’s what the aftercare is for. To bridge that gap from scene back to reality,” he says, sitting down in the armchair.

Kappy snorts again. “Yeah, the aftercare that you didn’t fucking do.” 

“I left him with you. I asked you if it was okay,” Freddie defends himself, but Kappy just gives him another dark look. 

“I didn’t know it would be our last scene. You did. You shouldn’t have left like that. You shouldn’t have done any of it. We should never have started sceneing with him in the first place.”

Freddie knows he’s right. That doesn’t mean he has to admit it. “If I recall correctly, you encouraged this. And he was the one who asked me for it in the first place.”

Kappy throws up his hands as if it’s all just too much to deal with while sitting still. “Well, he didn’t know what he was getting into. You should’ve never agreed to it.”

Freddie raises an eyebrow at him. “Willy isn’t a child, he can make his own decisions. He doesn’t need you to protect him.” Kappy flinches, and Freddie can’t resist taking the opening. “Is that why you’re here? Because Willy’s angry at me so you think you have to fix—”

“He’s not angry! You broke his fucking heart.” 

Freddie feels like someone punched him in the stomach, all the air escaping from his lungs. “What?”

Kappy still looks angry, but there’s a resigned note to his voice now. “He asked you to love him, and you did. And then you left. He thinks he pushed too far and that he ruined everything.”

Freddie doesn’t know what to say about that. “He didn’t,” he finally settles on. “That’s not— It wasn’t like that.” He feels exhausted all of a sudden, more than a day of training camp would warrant. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

The expression on Kappy’s face is hard as stone. “Yeah, I know. So go and fix it.”

“How do you expect me to do that?” Freddie asks, and he doesn’t mean for it to come out quite that sarcastic, would actually like to hear Kappy’s opinion, but he can’t help the defensiveness, the need to protect himself.

“How about you fucking tell him,” Kappy spits. “I know you don’t really do emotions or whatever, but maybe you could make an exception for once in your life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Freddie asks, and Kappy lets out a derisive snort.

“Oh please, I don’t know if you’re actually incapable of caring about someone or just in denial.” 

That hits something deep inside Freddie and resonates at a painful frequency. “Look who’s talking,” he shoots back, because he can’t actually look at why Kappy’s accusation hurts so much. “You pretend to be angry on Willy’s behalf so you don’t have to deal with the fact that the reason you’re really angry is that I’m not giving you what you want anymore.”

The expression on Kappy’s face is more startled than furious and for a moment Freddie regrets his words. Then Kappy seems to settle on fury, all traces of hurt disappearing.

“Fuck you,” he hisses, and then he pushes past Freddie and out the door, making his dramatic escape just like Freddie had predicted he would. 

It doesn’t take long for the hot rage inside of Freddie to run out and leave him cold. That really couldn’t have gone much worse.

He tries to level out his breathing, to focus his thoughts on something productive, but it takes much longer than usual. _You broke his fucking heart_, Kappy’s voice keeps echoing in his head. 

If there’s any place he can start fixing this mess, it’s there.

————— 

It’s not exactly hard to catch Willy on his own. Despite his clear preference for being surrounded by others most of the time, there are times when Willy likes to be alone, likes to focus. Freddie finds him in one of the gyms at their practice rink, running on a treadmill with his headphones in. He waits until Willy slows down to a walk and pauses his music, then makes himself known.

“Hey.” Willy’s head snaps up, then lowers back down right away when he sees Freddie, his shoulders climbing up to his ears. 

“I’ll be out of here in a sec,” he says, staring down at the monitor of the treadmill instead of looking at Freddie.

“Actually, I’m here to talk to you.” Willy’s shoulders somehow go up even higher like he’s trying to hide.

“I dunno what we’d talk about,” he mumbles, quiet enough that it’s hard to hear across the distance. Freddie’s heart sinks like a stone, right down to the bottom of his stomach.

“Kappy came by my place last night,” he starts, angling for a reaction. 

Willy still doesn’t look at him. “I know.”

Freddie steps closer. “I see,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “I’d like to apologize, if you’ll let me.”

That makes Willy finally look at him. “No need, I get it. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I really do,” Freddie disagrees, stepping even closer. Willy’s face is flushed with exhaustion and there are drops of sweat beading along his forehead and the back of his neck. Freddie tries not stare too much. He’s here for a reason.

Willy averts his eyes again. “You don’t,” he repeats, and this time his voice sounds much firmer, almost angry. “You don’t owe me an explanation either. I really don’t wanna hear it.”

“Right. Okay.” There isn’t really anything left for Freddie to say. He turns to leave, then hesitates. “What exactly did Kappy tell you about last night?”

It’s easier to ask when he can’t see Willy’s face, but the little huff of breath still surprises him. “Kappy thinks you’re in love with me,” Willy says, intonation making it clear that he thinks it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. 

Hot shame wells up in Freddie’s chest, flooding his entire body and for a moment he can’t even think. He isn’t used to this, to being exposed like this. Being judged and found wanting like this. He tries to focus his breathing but it’s no use, doesn’t help with the overwhelming humiliation.

He knows it’s not Willy’s fault, that he can’t logically be blamed for Freddie’s own feelings, but the only other viable person to blame is Freddie himself. He resists the urge to fold in on himself, to make himself smaller. Instead he straightens up to his full height.

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable,” he says, and his voice sounds wooden, robotic, but that’s still better than letting any of his hurt show through. 

The soft whirring of the treadmill shuts off behind him. “You didn’t. Not your fault Kappy got the wrong impression,” Willy says, and Freddie turns back to face him. Willy’s busy gathering up his towel and water bottle and doesn’t look up.

Freddie takes a breath. “He didn’t.” 

That finally makes Willy look at him, his eyes wide and startled. “What?”

“Kappy. He didn’t get the wrong impression. I—” The words get stuck in his throat. This isn’t the right place for it, and Willy most likely doesn’t even want to hear it, but he still deserves to know. “I didn’t break it off because of anything you did,” Freddie says instead. “I was...struggling to keep the proper distance. I wanted things you didn’t agree to.” 

It sounds too stilted, too formal, but Freddie doesn’t know any other way to do this. 

For a long moment Willy just stares at him, startled expression turning into incredulity. “What are you saying?” His voice sounds choked, breathless.

Freddie takes a precautionary look around the room, but they’re still alone, just like he’d expected they’d be. He meets Willy gaze, doesn’t allow himself to look away. “I have...feelings for you. I know that’s not what you want and I’m—”

“What?” Willy interrupts him, and Freddie falls silent. “What do you— feelings? Like—” he breaks off, swallows. “Kappy’s right? You’re—” He gestures with his hand, completely incomprehensible, but it’s not like Freddie doesn’t know what he’s asking.

Freddie nods, and it’s so much easier than having to try and put it into words. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

The distance between them disappears in a few quick steps and then Willy’s lips are pressed against Freddie’s. It surprises him so much he doesn’t even close his eyes at first, not until Willy’s arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Willy whispers, so quiet it would be impossible to hear if his mouth wasn’t so close. “Not for that.” He kisses Freddie again before he has a chance to answer, to say anything at all, and Freddie doesn’t at all mind.

It should be strange to have Willy in his arms like this, in a practice facility instead of his playroom, both of them fully dressed. Willy’s hair is tangled and a bit wet when Freddie runs his fingers through it, and he should probably complain about Willy’s sweaty clothes pressing against his clean ones, but complaining is the last thing on his mind.

Willy is the one who finally breaks the kiss. He smiles up at Freddie for a moment, then his brow furrows. “Wait. What about Kappy?”

It’s like having a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Freddie takes a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” God, he can’t believe he fucked up like this again. That just because Willy doesn’t mind his feelings doesn’t mean he didn’t have a perfectly good reason not to—

Willy just waves him off. “No, not that. I mean, do you also have feelings for Kappy?” 

Freddie blinks at him. “I—” He pauses, thinks about it. “I don’t know,” he finally settles on, and it’s a ridiculous thing to say, but Willy nods like that makes sense.

“Yeah, I totally don’t get your relationship. I mean, you’re always so mean when we— But then afterwards you always try so hard to make sure he’s happy without ever actually letting on that you care.” 

It’s a somewhat apt summary. Freddie isn’t sure what to say, but thankfully Willy just continues onwards. “He’s super convinced that you don’t actually care, that you just like the scenes, but that isn’t true at all, is it?”

Freddie’s throat feels dry. “No. Not at all.” 

Willy nods, satisfied. “Yeah, I thought so. You guys are idiots.” He pauses. “No offense.” Despite the weird situation, Freddie has to laugh at that. Willy smiles at him, then his expression turns shy. “So what do we do now?”

Freddie resists the urge to shrug. Nothing about this conversation has gone the way he expected. Willy wipes the back of his hand across his forehead and grimaces. “Maybe I should start by taking a shower. Can I come over afterwards?”

“Yeah, of course.” Freddie’s mind is already back at his apartment, thinking if there’s anything he needs to do before he can have guests over, and he almost misses Willy’s next words.

“Great, I’ll bring Kappy. See you in a bit.” He presses a kiss to Freddie’s cheek, so quick that Fredie doesn’t even have time to react. He’s out of the room before Freddie can say anything else. 

Freddie sighs. He has a feeling this isn’t going to go as smoothly as Willy imagines, but there’s nothing he can do but wait.

————— 

It’s not long after he’s gotten home that there’s a knock on his door, but it’s still enough time for him to throw something quick together. He pushes the casserole in the oven and shuts the door, breathes out slowly and holds his breath for a couple of seconds. If this goes well, he can ask them to stay for dinner. And if it doesn’t, he has enough food for the next couple of days.

“Hi,” Willy greets him brightly when he opens the door. He wastes no time pushing Freddie backwards into the apartment and kissing him, soft and almost chaste, just saying hello.

“Not that I’m not glad you’ve made up, but I don’t get why I have to be here for this,” Kappy’s voice comes from the doorway, and Freddie hastily pulls away. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says belatedly. Kappy only shrugs in response, but he closes the door behind him. “I wanted to apologize.”

Kappy raises an eyebrow. “Wow, you actually do that? Didn’t think that was in your programming.” Willy elbows him in the side, hard enough to make him wince. “Sorry.” He doesn’t sound particularly remorseful, but Freddie can work with that. 

“You told Willy I’m in love with him,” Freddie says, and it isn’t meant to be an accusation but still sounds like it.

Kappy crosses his arms in front of his chest, uncharacteristically defensive. “Well, you are.”

Freddie nods, and it’s so much easier now, when he can see Willy beam at the confirmation. “I am.”

Kappy shifts his weight and looks down to the floor. “Great. Congratulations on acknowledging you actually have feelings. Why am I here?”

“I can’t date both of you if you hate Freddie, obviously,” Willy chimes in, and the word choice makes something in Freddie’s chest flutter out of control.

Kappy looks even more uncomfortable than before. “Fine. You have my blessing or whatever. Can I go now?”

“Kappy,” Freddie starts and steps closer to him, making sure not to loom. He doesn’t want to intimidate Kappy when he’s already so clearly wrongfooted. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more open with you. That I didn’t tell you how I felt and just ran away instead.”

Kappy doesn’t look at Freddie, but some of the tension in his frame dissipates. “Apology accepted,” he says, more quiet than Freddie would have expected. He shoots a sideways glance at Willy, then gives Freddie a smile that doesn’t at all reach his eyes. “Can I go now?”

Freddie wants to reach for him but that seems like the exact wrong thing to do. He doesn’t want to push. “Or you could stay. If you wanted to,” he says gently. His heart is beating too fast in his chest. Somehow this seems even more risky than telling Willy his feelings. “Why do you think that Willy is the only one I want?”

Kappy’s head snaps up so fast Freddie almost takes a step back. “What?” Freddie doesn’t answer, doesn’t elaborate, just gives Kappy some time to process. “But you— you’re not in love with me,” he finally says and it’s not a question.

Freddie smiles. “No, but I don’t think it would take much. It’s been...hard, to keep the proper distance with you for a while,” he admits. “You just never pushed for it the way Willy does.” 

Kappy’s eyes are wide and startled, completely taken off guard. “You don’t—” He bites his lip, and it’s strange to see one of Willy’s nervous habits on Kappy’s face. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I’m not gonna— be in your way, or anything like that.”

“I know,” Freddie says, and he feels much calmer now. He can do this, is used to this role, to reassuring people and providing stability, even if he’s more used to doing it for Willy than Kappy. He takes a deliberately slow breath. Time to be honest. “I like you, Kappy. And I don’t just mean the scenes with you. I like taking care of you after scenes, and I like it when you come over to hang out. I like talking to you. I like being around you.”

He takes another breath, forces himself not to look down. It seems it’s going to take even less than he had anticipated to fall in love with Kappy, as well. 

Kappy for his part looks completely stunned. “But I thought— You’re in love with Willy.” He sounds almost offended.

Freddie raises an eyebrow. “Is there a limit?” 

Kappy shakes his head, a blush rising to his cheeks. “No, but— You didn’t even— You always—”

“Oh, wow. You’re a disaster. Both of you,” Willy cuts in, and it’s not that Freddie had forgotten he was there, but he hadn’t really expected him to say anything until he and Kappy had figured out their issues. “Like, you’re genuinely terrible at this,” Willy continues. “It’s sorta fascinating to watch.”

“How about you help us along then?” Freddie suggests, and Willy grins at him.

“I dunno. I kinda enjoy seeing you be bad at something for a change. It’s very refreshing,” he muses, then turns to Kappy. “Look, I know this is kind of a lot to take in, but how about you just...sit down with us? And then we can figure out what we all want?”

It’s astonishing how Kappy’s whole demeanor immediately softens when he looks at Willy, how he easily nods and lets Willy pull him over to the couch when he’d been closed off and defensive with Freddie only moments prior.

Instead of dwelling on that, Freddie sits down with them. There’s a moment of awkward silence. 

“But you didn’t even want to do aftercare,” Kappy says out of nowhere. “I mean, all those times, I always thought…” 

Freddie feels a pang in his chest. “I thought you’d prefer it if Willy takes care of you,” Freddie admits, and in retrospect he can see how this might have given off the wrong impression. 

Kappy shakes his head. “But you didn’t even wanna do it when it was both me and Willy. You always left and I thought—” he pauses. “I thought you didn’t want to do that stuff while I was still around.” He sounds embarrassed, and it’s so uncharacteristic that Freddie wants to reach out to him, wants to give something physical to anchor him. 

Willy reaches over to grab Kappy’s hand, and he doesn’t interlace their fingers but it still looks shockingly intimate, like it’s giving Kappy all the support he could ever need. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Freddie starts, trying to choose his words carefully before he continues. “I like taking care of you. Both of you. But it didn’t feel right when I...wanted more than just the scenes. Like I was taking something you didn’t agree to.”

“So you made us dinner instead.” It sounds incredibly simple when Willy puts it like that, but it does sum up the whole situation quite nicely so Freddie nods. 

Kappy makes a noise that’s not quite a laugh. “Wow, I can’t believe I used to think you had your shit together.”

Freddie should probably be offended by that, but he’s mostly just happy to see Kappy finally relax a bit. “Sorry to ruin the illusion,” he says, his voice light, and that makes Kappy laugh for real. 

“No, I think I like it better this way. You’re much less intimidating.”

“You like it when I’m intimidating,” Freddie shoots back.

Kappy grins, and that’s familiar. “Well, yeah, but not all the time. Don’t worry, I’m still gonna be super into you domming me. Uh, if that’s something you still want to do,” he adds hastily, his eyes going wide again. He glances over at Willy out of the corner of his eye.

One of them had to bring it up sooner or later, so Freddie might as well take the opportunity. “I’d love to,” he says, trying to make it an offer rather than a request. “I know things can’t go back to the way they were, but…I’d like to try something similar. All cards on the table this time.”

Willy looks a bit dubious. “So, what? We come over for scenes and that’s it? Only now we’re allowed to have feelings?” He sounds disappointed and it makes some of Freddie’s nerves dissipate. 

“No, I don’t think I could go back to that,” Freddie admits. “I want more than that. I like having you around. Both of you. I’d like to spend time with you without having sex.”

“So, dating,” Willy says, sitting up a bit straighter. “And then we see where it goes. That sounds good to me.”

Kappy looks a bit more dubious. “How’s that gonna work with the three of us?” he asks. “I mean, me and Willy live together. Seems a bit...unequal.”

It’s as good an opening as any. “I don’t mind that,” he starts, and it’s true. For all that he’d had moments of irrational jealousy when seeing them together, that was usually because he’d assumed he wouldn’t be wanted in that way, not because he’d really wanted to replace either one of them. 

“I’m not really a…relationship person,” he continues. “Not the way you two are. I don’t really do the whole ‘shared living space, always together’ thing. Not that I wouldn’t like for you to stay over sometimes,” he adds when he sees Willy’s shoulders slump a bit. “I just, I need space. Time to myself.” 

He’d expected some disappointment, maybe some scepticism, but Kappy only smiles at him. “Well, we weren’t actually think of asking you to move in quite yet,” he teases, then gets more serious. “And I get what you’re saying but I was more wondering if it’s— If it’s always going to be the three of us together now. I mean, don’t you want to— spend some time just with Willy?”

“Or, you know, just with Kappy?” Willy asks with a pointed look in Kappy’s direction. “You guys had your own thing going on before I ever really got into the picture, and I don’t need to be a part of that all the time. Or ever, if you’d prefer that.”

“You were surprisingly eager to participate in scenes for someone who can just take it or leave it now,” Freddie points out.

Willy shrugs. “I mean, I’m gonna miss the blindfold and stuff but I don’t really need it. If you want that to be just your thing I’d be cool with it.” He means it, too. It’s obvious from the way he’s holding himself, relaxed and without fidgeting, meeting Freddie’s eyes head on. Freddie doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“Let’s not go that far,” Kappy interjects, but the way he’s looking at Willy is full of fondness. “Maybe we can have a couple scenes alone, but I don’t think we need to exclude you completely.” He shoots a questioning look at Freddie, who nods.

“Works for me,” he agrees. 

“That still doesn’t answer my question though,” Kappy argues. It’s strange to see him more nervous than Willy. “I just— I don’t know how this is going to work. I don’t know what—” He breaks off and looks down. Willy squeezes his hand, comforting.

“We’re a bit scared of you running off again,” Willy says. “So, you know. What are the rules?”

“I don’t have any,” Freddie says. “I don’t think this is the kind of thing you can really plan for properly.”

“That must be terrible for you,” Kappy chirps, but the lightheartedness doesn’t last long. “So what do we do, then?”

Freddie takes a breath. “I guess we just try.” It sounds so simple when it’s anything but. “Be honest. Talk to each other. That sort of thing.”

“Yeah, cause we’re so good at that.” 

“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy,” Freddie amends. “But, I think it’s worth the effort.”

“Yeah, I’m in,” Willy agrees immediately. 

Kappy takes a moment longer. “Yeah, me too. Just don’t— You know…”

Freddie wants to say something to defend himself, to point out that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t communicate the way he felt properly, that Kappy's just as bad at talking things through as Freddie is and also prefers to run away instead, but he swallows down the impulse. “I won’t.”

Willy smiles at that and Kappy also relaxes. There’s a moment of silence.

“So, what do we do now?” Willy asks, just as the timer on Freddie’s oven goes off.

Freddie smiles at them. “How about you stay for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Content Notes: mentions of fisting; electro stim; flogging; stress positions; oral sex; anal sex; sceneing while in a bad headspace; spanking; biting/marking; dom drop.
> 
> If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me on my [writing Tumblr](https://vidrianawrites.tumblr.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Just a Fantasy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22161157) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)


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